In My Arms Again
by The BatThing
Summary: Bruce finds that one girl he knows is meant for him, but how long will that last? New Chapter: Tim's new life living with Clark Kent not so much fun. He gets to start at a new school, make new friends ... or well, not really. This is for Ari.
1. You Won't Say

"Searching for that someone to heal this heart of mine and keep me from being along. When will it be, and how will I know? I don't want to wait here forever. Somebody love me, come and carry me away. Somebody need me to be their blue in their grey. Somebody want me the way I always dreamed it could be. Won't somebody love me? Love me. It's like _wanting_ to _sing_, but _needing_ _song_. When will I hear the music playing?"

-Somebody Love Me 'Michael W. Smith'-

_**In My Arms Again:**_

By: The BatThing

For: Ariel (Happy Birthday – again, again, again)

**Chapter One: **You Won't Say

Tim Drake pushed through the large doors of Wayne Manor, jerking his backpack off and letting it drop to the floor with a thud.

"Master Timothy, I do believe we've had this _divine_ conversation before." Alfred said from behind, pulling the doors shut with a click. "You're backpack belongs in your room, not in the entryway for everyone to trip over."

"Right, right." The boy pulled at his hoodie, attempting to pull it off. "I won't use it till tomorrow morning though, so there isn't any point in taking it upstairs every day."

Quirking an eyebrow, Alfred shook his head.

"I'm kidding, geesh-la-weesh, you guys _can't_ take a joke." Tim tossed his hoodie on a hanger and then kicked off his flip flops. "What's for dinner?"

"_Poison_."

Tim just looked at the butler with a bored gaze. "I take it you don't know?" He smiled after that. "Or are you just trying to prove to me that you can take a joke?"

"Hmm." And with that Alfred made his way out of the hall, leaving Tim. The boy sighed, and then let his back pack drag behind him as he made his way into the sitting room. There he about fell over.

"Bruce? What are you doing here?"

There, sitting in his favorite seat, sat Bruce Wayne, reading. The man turned a page and looked up at the boy. "I lived here the last time I checked."

Tim took in a deep breath, as if that would help, and then shook his head. "You are _never_ home this early. What's the special occasion?" The boy flopped onto the couch, propping his feet up on the coffee table.

"Dick's coming over in an hour, I invited him to dinner." Bruce put down the book, sitting a little straighter. There was a pause, and the man rubbed the back of his head, looking out the window. "I also invited someone else."

"Barb?" Tim had now picked up the television remote and was flipping through random channels, hoping to find 'Reduced Fat' his favorite TV show. There, on channel 12, it played. Bruce kind of faded away as he became engulfed in the show.

The man noticed and got to his feet, taking the remote and turning the television off. He shook his head. "No, it's not Barb, it's a woman I'd like you to meet."

Tim was sad about the television, and now he was sad about dinner. "_Bleh_, are you serious? Why don't you just spare us from this awkward pain? You always pick idiots for girlfriends. Just cancel on her, it's not like you're actually in a serious relationship." The boy reached for the remote, only to have it pulled away.

"Actually, this girl _is_ different."

"_Fine_." Tim rolled his eyes. "I just don't like these _girls_ of yours. It's embarrassing, you know. You try going to school where every kid knows that you are the billionaire playboy. You know how awful it is? Why don't you just drop the dating act? It'd do a lot of good, _all_ the way around."

Bruce rubbed between his eyes, and then frowned. "Are you done?"

"Only if you are."

"No, actually, I'm not. And yes, actually, you are through speaking till I have had my say. Understand?" Bruce sat down beside Tim, which was strange. The boy automatically moved away a little. "The girl who is coming tonight, she and I have been dating for a year now."

"So it's Candy?"

"No it's _not_ Candice – and you _know_ she hated you calling her that."

"Lucy?"

"No, actually." Bruce clasped his hands together and looked at the floor. "Her name is Lisa, Lisa Troy. You haven't met her yet."

Tim shook his head; this didn't make an ounce of sense to him. "You say you've been dating her for a year now … but you've brought other women home. How does that work out? She doesn't mind you cheating on her?"

The man looked at Tim, annoyed.

"Sorry, I'm listening."

"We broke after two months; I thought it would be best. I don't enjoy getting attached to one woman. People might start talking." Bruce was now looking at his reflection in the television. "Then, four months later, we started going back out … and then I broke up with her again."

"Wow, sounds like a healthy relationship."

Bruce ignored the comment. "We just started dating three months ago, and well, this girl is different than the others."

Tim smiled, though he could care less. This didn't concern him now, and it wouldn't concern him … well, probably ever. "Good for her."

Now the man was looking at Tim, staring him in the eyes. "I'm in love with her, and asked her to marry me."

There was a pause and Tim got to his feet with a start. "Oh, no … no you _didn't_."

"Yes. Yes I did. And she accepted."

"NO! _Bruce_, you can't just go marry some woman! Are you insane? Don't you care about the secret!"

"I said I was in love with her, Tim, I meant it."

"So the secret means _nothing_! That you are suddenly throwing everything away for some, stupid … woman!"

"I plan to tell her, when the time is right." Bruce was now on his feet. "I told Dick this morning, so he already knows."

"I'm sure he's _happy_ for you." Tim spat, glaring at the man.

"No, actually he was a bit standoffish about it."

Tim didn't say anything.

"Well, here, you can watch your show now." The man handed Tim the remote.

"I don't want to watch the _stupid_ _show_, anymore."

Bruce was silent, and then placed the remote on the coffee table. He shrugged. "Fine, make sure you're showered and everything before five. Ok?" The man stood, waiting for a reply, but all he received was the sound of heavy breathing. "Tim?"

The boy wrenched his head up. "_No_. I'm _not_ coming to dinner."

"_Tim_ - stop acting like a **_five_**-year-old. You're 15, and _old_ _enough_ not to do this. If you aren't ready by five, then we'll talk, and it **_won't_** be a cheerful conversation. Got that?"

Silence.

"Tim."

The man received a glare, followed by an angry grunt. "I'm not _stupid_, I _understand_."

* * *

The doorbell ringing signified Lisa's arrival for Wayne Manor. Dick had just made it five minutes earlier, angrily explaining that it wasn't _his_ fault he was late.

As Alfred hung up her coat, Bruce came over and took the woman by the hand. He led her to where Dick stood, and then smiled pleasantly. "Lisa, I'd like you to meet Richard. Richard – this is Lisa."

Lisa didn't waste anytime. She stuck out her hand, smile perfect, and eyes glittering. "Dick … I've heard so much about you. You are the oldest, correct?"

The young man accepted the hand. "That's right."

"It's a pleasure to meet you."

Dick just nodded, not returning the manners. He caught Bruce's glare, and that changed his tune. The young man gave a charming smile, which impressed just about everyone, and then returned the praise. "It's nice to meet you too. I'm happy that Bruce finally found someone."

Lisa looked a little confused, knowing that something was up. "T-thank you, Dick."

"Yes, Richard, thank you. Now how about you get Tim and come into the sitting room with Lisa and me?" Bruce then took the woman's hand once more, and the two made their way into the other room, leaving Dick and Alfred.

"Master Richard, I know you have manners. I would suggest using them." And with that, Alfred left for the kitchen, where a busy night lay ahead.

Dick stood, letting everything sink in, then shook his head. '_What's wrong with me? Why am I acting like such a baby? It's not like I care about what Bruce does? Not anymore._' Well, that was mostly true. What bothered him is that he didn't even know about this woman before today, and now Bruce was marrying her. '_What a guy._'

The gypsy made his way to Tim's room, and entered upon knocking. He found Tim pulling on a polo shirt, and laughed. "I say, are you going golfing ol' chap?"

"Shut up, Dick." Tim sighed, looking in the mirror. "Bruce said to dress up, I'm dressed up."

"A polo shirt and jeans is nice now-a-days? Well, at least you are sporting _nicer_ shoes." Dick looked down at his younger brother's brown shoes with a snort. "Though, I think I see you wear those for every day occasions."

"Well, I look better than you." Tim replied with a small smile. He and Dick had a connection, and it was hard for them to get mad at each other. They both shared feelings it seemed. "Look at you, um, nice flip-flops. I hear they're in style this time of year."

"I said I admired your choice of shoes, didn't I?"

The boy laughed as he smoothed his hands over his green polo, and then stopped abruptly. "You know what I think?"

Dick shrugged as he poked his foot at a piece of paper on the ground. "Um, that Bruce is being a complete bastard by not telling us anything about this woman?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

The two looked at each other for a moment, and then, in silence, made their way out of the room and down the stairs.

Lisa and Bruce looked up as the two boys entered the room. Bruce wasted no time. "Timothy, come here a moment."

The boy made his way in front of the two, not smiling.

"Timothy, this is Lisa, and Lisa – this is Timothy."

Lisa got to her feet, shaking Tim's hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Dick cleared his throat and Tim took the hint. He chose his words carefully. "Thanks." He then turned around to join Dick on the couch apposing the couple. The 15-year-old felt the older boy's elbow dig in his side and quickly returned the favor.

Bruce and Lisa were talking, and didn't notice the two communicating through signs.

Dick curled his lip, shook his head, and moved his eyes towards Lisa.

Tim just nodded. He mouthed the word: _bastard_, moving his eyes towards Bruce.

Dick smiled and then nodded.

Dinner came and went, and then Tim and Dick were allowed to go free. They hurried up to Tim's room, where they flopped on the bed, switched on the television and pretended everything was all right.

It helped - procrastinating their feelings, not to mention easier.

* * *

Tim whirled his lock on his locker, working at the combination.

"Hey! Tim!"

The boy glanced up, though he recognized the voice of Ron, an old friend. He offered a small smile, and then looked back at his locker. "What's up?"

Ron just smiled as he leaned against a nearby locker. "I think you _know_ what's up."

"Do I?" The boy pulled open the door and pulled out his English book, glancing over it, and then shoving it in his backpack. Tim tried his best to look innocent. It didn't go so well.

"Hum, it's _all_ _over_ the newspapers, I think you'd know. Don't play dumb, stupid."

"I'm pretty sure you shouldn't tell me _not to play dumb_ then call me _stupid_. It doesn't make much sense." Tim sighed as he met his friend's eyes. "Yeah, Bruce is getting married."

"What's up with not telling us? I told you when my mom got married." The two boys made their way down the hall, listening to a conversation that included Frank Griff getting drunk and being picked up by the cops.

Ron made a face, ready to continue with what he had been saying when a girl pulled in front of the two boys. Ron about slammed into her, but managed to control himself. "Geesh, Lee! What the crap? You _wanna'_ get run over?"

"No," said the brunette girl standing before them. "So let's move. People are getting mad at us for blocking the hall."

"We're only blocking it because you danced into the way." Ron sighed as he turned to Tim. "So, I think you were about ready to say something, Tim?"

"No, I wasn't."

"Yeah, about Bruce getting married. Who's the chick, is she hot? Do you like her? Is she rich?"

"I don't really know anymore than you. Bruce just told me last week, and I got to meet her, but that was it. It's not any of my business apparently." Tim shut his mouth, wishing he hadn't added the last sentence – his friends would now pry all the more. He glanced up at them and sure enough both were getting ready to reply to _that_. "I-I mean, you know. I just don't think it matters that much to me."

Lee raised an eyebrow. "Liar."

"Well, even so, I don't want to talk about it."

"Uh-huh."

"Lee." Tim gave her a look that told her to back off, and she respected him enough to do so.

The three were silent as they made their way down the hall, coming to the doors. "See you guys tomorrow, I'm sure it'll be as great as today."

"Um, today's Friday? We don't _have_ school tomorrow." And with that Lee pushed past him, making her way to the parked cars where all the parents sat.

Ron was now smiling. "I forgot that. There's no school tomorrow! We're _free_." He patted Tim on the head and then ran out to his own car, calling over his shoulder that he'd see the boy on Monday.

Tim glanced around, looking for the Rolls Royce, and to his surprise, he didn't see it. Usually Alfred was on time. The boy walked to the gates and settled down, watching the cars go by, waiting for his ride to come get him.

"Tim!"

The boy turned his head and jumped to his feet, smiling. "DICK! I didn't know you were coming today. Alfred didn't say anything."

"Nah, he didn't know till just before he left. I told him I'd come get you." The older boy smiled, holding his helmet over his shoulder. "Ready to go home?"

"Serious?"

"No. I heard you get to spend another evening with _Lisa_, tonight. You know what? I don't think I'm so much mad at her, as I am at Bruce. He's a bastard … in fact he's the _lord_ of bastards." The way Dick said lord sounded like something mystical, and Tim laughed. "I'm serious, you think he'd tell us that he was seeing someone and it was getting _that_ serious."

Tim frowned. "What if she wants to adopt us or something? What then?"

"I think I'm a bit _old_ for that." Dick admitted.

"Not from what I hear." Tim answered. "And you know it."

The gypsy just shrugged. "Hopefully she won't care enough for us to do that. I mean, she knows us as much as we know her. I won't say she's in it for the money, because Bruce has dated enough girls like that to know. Still, it makes it easier if I think like that."

Tim smiled as they came to the bike and accepted the helmet Dick handed to him. "Yeah, I know what you mean."

They didn't say any more on the subject as they got on the motorcycle and started for the Manor.

* * *

"_You have a motorcycle!" _Lisa's voice was the first thing that Tim and Dick heard as they pulled into Wayne Manor. The woman stood beside her car, purse over her shoulder, and a smile lining her face. "Wow, those things scare me to death."

Dick smiled at her pleasantly and forced the gentlemen in him to answer. "It's not that bad. I wear a helmet."

Tim pulled off his own helmet then and slid off the back of the bike. He gave Dick a pleading look. "Wanna' come inside for dinner?"

"I would if I could, but I had plans with Barb. Hey, maybe Bruce'll let you go with?"

Lisa was trying to decide if she should wait for them, or just go in. It took a moment of indecision before she closed her car door and headed towards the entry way.

The two boys watched, and then looked at each other. Tim waited for her to go inside before he replied. "I seriously doubt Bruce would let me. Him being the bastard he is and all."

Dick smiled. "You want me to talk to him about it?"

"About being a bastard? Sure." Tim gave a crooked smile.

"Um, about that … no, I meant about coming with Barb and I."

"I know what you meant, and sure … it won't hurt, will it?"

"Nah, not unless he told you that you couldn't do anything tonight." There was a pause, waiting for an answer … and nothing came. Dick groaned. "Ah, he told you that didn't he?"

Tim just smiled. "Something along those lines, yeah. I hate living here at times … well, just now actually. I hate it so much I could die and come back and haunt Bruce."

Dick couldn't help but laugh at that, he nodded a few times, and then remounted his bike. "I'll tell Barbara about your pain, we'll be sure to think of you as we eat our food in freedom."

The boy turned away, tossing a hand in the air as he waved goodbye to the other boy.

_To be continued…_


	2. Here For You

"Healing rain is coming down, it's coming closer to this old town. Healing rain it comes with fire, so let it fall and take us higher. Life your heads, let us return to the mercy seat where time began. And in your eyes I see the pain, come soak this dry heart with healing rain."

- Michael W. Smith 'Healing Rain' -

_**In My Arms Again**_

By: The BatThing

For: Ariel (Happy Birthday)

**Chapter Two:** Here For You

Lisa smacked her hand down on the table and gave a large smile. "Ha! You get to take these cards! You're loosing Bruce, loosing bad." The woman held her own share of cards, but that didn't stop the victory taunts.

"I never enjoyed this game; I think it's because of the title." Bruce added the stack of cards to his hand and sighed.

"How can you not like Egyptian Rat Screw!" She sounded aghast, but her expression said other things.

The man considered and then shrugged. "I guess because I never win."

"That's as good an excuse as any."

There was a pause, and then Bruce leaned forward and kissed her, moving his hand to her face as he did so.

Tim watched from the landing on the stairs in disgust. He would have gladly been anywhere but _here_. That much was for sure. The boy got up and started for his room, and later wished he had made it there, but something caught his attention.

"What about Dick and Tim?" Lisa said in a low voice.

Tim caught the sound of his name and turned back slowly he sunk to the ground, peering out from the corner and looking down at the two talking.

Bruce was putting all the cards into a stack, apparently done with the game. He lifted his head a little at the question. "What about them?"

"Well, they don't seem happy with me. I know I haven't given it much time, but I have been wondering about it. When I was little and my parents divorced my mom got remarried, I hated her for it." There was a pause and Lisa blushed slightly. "Not that I do anymore, but it did put a big dent in our relationship. I can tell they don't approve. I don't know if it's me, I suppose it must me, but I just don't want to hurt anyone."

'Suck up.' Tim thought as he rolled his eyes. He was curious as the Bruce's answer, which was still in the process of being thought through. He could tell that his guardian was carefully coming up with a proper response.

"Tim and Dick aren't children, Lisa, I think -."

The woman frowned at that quickly. "Children or not, you know what I'm saying. And since when is Tim not a child?"

"_Lisa_. Tim is almost ready for college. He's what – 15 now."

"Almost ready for college! What college are _you_ talking about?" Lisa started to laugh. "That's what I don't get about you, Bruce! How in the world do you have two children? I guess Alfred had a huge hand in that one, huh?"

"He did." Bruce leaned forward a little more and kissed her again, but the woman quickly put an end to that.

"You're ignoring the question, Bruce. Am I doing any harm?"

"You worry too much." The man assured her with a small smile. "They're big kids; they can handle something like this."

At this Lisa sighed and nodded. "I guess you would know. I just tried to talk to them today, before I came here and they both seemed so cold. They don't like me, be honest."

Bruce leaned back, looking slightly annoyed. "They don't _know_ you. And I hardly am going to let them pout, if that's what their doing. If they're being rude to you, tell me, I'd like to know."

"I thought you said they weren't kids."

"I said they weren't _children_."

"Oh bah, it's the same thing." The woman declared, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

Bruce just looked at her.

"What?"

"What would you suggest to ease your worry?" The man asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"More time with them. I'm going to be playing a big part in their life; I want to at least get a heads up as of how it's going to be."

"Are you second guessing getting married?"

Lisa smiled softly and shook her head. "I want to marry you. I just want to have two kids who like me too."

Bruce went over to her, kissing her and muttering. "They're not kids, remember?"

Lisa just laughed.

* * *

"Yeah, it's bad. She gave the: _I want to be a good mother_ speech." Tim growled into the phone. "You know what that means? It means _trouble_ - trouble, trouble, trouble." 

"For _you_, not for me." Barbara answered with a groan. "You know, why don't you call Dick about this? He's all into complaining about poor Lisa."

"You're cold."

"Well, I listened to this speech all last night on what was _supposed_ to be **_a date_**. You and Dick just need to get over the fact that Bruce can be that way. After all, it's not like he _forced_ you into adoption. No, he _offered_ it. And now he wants to get married, welcome to a normal family."

"You're really cold."

The girl signed. "It's true, I probably am being cold. And for that, I'm sorry. I just think you need to give Bruce some slack. The poor guy is in love, and when you're in love you can't help it. It causes you to do dumb stuff; it makes you change your morals."

Tim made a face. "Ble-eh! I don't want to hear about how you changed your morals, Barb."

There was a chuckle. "I wasn't about _ready_ to tell **_you_**."

"Thanks for wasting my time."

"You called me."

Tim hung up with a frown. It was apparent he was going to get no help from Barbara or Alfred in this matter. Dick was the only person on his side. Well, beside his friends at school, but he didn't truly consider them _friends_. After all, it wasn't like they did anything outside of school, besides skip classes together. There was a knock at his door and the boy glanced around the room.

Good, not to messy to get yelled at for.

"Come in."

The door opened and Bruce entered, glancing around the room. "Were you just on the phone?"

"Yeah, with Barbara." Tim answered calmly.

"How's she doing?"

"The same, I guess."

Bruce nodded, and then made his way to the point. "What are you doing tonight?"

Tim shrugged casually. He felt butterflies start to flutter about, knowing that Bruce was going to try and get him to come to another thing with him and Lisa. He wasn't about ready to stand for that. "I don't know. I was going to call Dick and see if he was free. After all, I spent last night here with you and Lisa. I thought I could hang out with him tonight. He and Barb were on a date, and he said something about us hanging out. So that's cool, you know? Dick and I don't really see each other as much as we should. I mean he's _rarely_ free, and you have your rule about weekdays and being out so late."

"You're rambling." Bruce told him.

The boy shut his mouth and felt his lips form a half frown half pout. He quickly put an end to that expression and hoped Bruce hadn't noticed. "Well, I know you're going to try and make me come with you and Lisa again. _I_ _don't_ _want_ _to_. I wanted to hang out with Dick tonight."

"Lisa really would like to get to know you better."

"I really would like to hang out with Dick."

"Dick can come with."

"He won't come _with_."

"I'll make him come with."

Tim's face turned into a pouting expression that couldn't be helped. "_He's_ 24 years old! He's _graduated_ from college. _He's _paying his _own_ taxes. I think he can make his own decisions. He'll say no, I _know_ he'll say no."

Bruce was casual in his response. "How do you know that?"

The boy gritted his teeth together. "It's _boring_."

"We'll do something you guys want to do this time."

"It doesn't matter _what_ _we_ want to do. If you come along people freak out and crowd around, news reporters take pictures, and I hear about it at school the next day." Tim snapped getting to his feet and walking over to his bed. He flopped down, pushing his face into his pillow. "I don' wanna' go."

"I won't come with. It'll be just you, Lisa, and Dick."

Tim sat up with a start. "_No_."

"What do you mean no? That takes care of all your troubles. You can do something you want to do, you can hang out with Dick, there won't be any reporters, and you won't hear about it at school the next day. What other excuses do you have?"

"A lot." Tim told him.

"Then just save my time and tell me the good ones."

Tim thought of a few good ones, but knew better than to say them. "You can't make me."

"_You're_ not 24 years old, _you_ _haven't_ graduated from college, and _you_ don't pay your own taxes. I can make you."

Tim shoved his face back into his pillow.

"Don't do that, it's rude. I'm calling Dick now, and I want this room picked up."

Tim grumbled into his pillow.

* * *

"I've never even heard of this movie." Lisa proclaimed as Dick parked the car in the parking lot of Showplace Seven. "I'm a little excited, this is the first time I've been to see a movie in a long, long time." 

Tim silently unbuckled his seatbelt and glanced at Dick. He didn't receive anything but a small smile. It was clear that his role model was being forced to do this, and not only forced to do it, but forced to do it with manners.

Dick locked the car door and waited as Tim and Lisa came to his side. "Well, Bruce gave me enough money for us all to see it ten times, so I guess we're good to go."

Lisa laughed at that, but stopped soon after, seeing that she was all alone. "I'll buy the tickets!"

"I think Bruce can manage."

"That's not the point. I wanted to hang out with you guys, so I mean – at least let me buy the tickets."

'In a few months she'll be loaded in cash, why wouldn't she offer to pay our way?' Tim gave Dick a steady stare which was returned with a sympathetic frown.

Lisa paid for the movies, Lisa offered to pay for any drinks, popcorn, or candy the boy's wanted, but neither Tim nor Dick felt up to eating. It was too awful to include food.

The way home was silent, other than Lisa talking.

"That movie was good, I'm glad I was able to see it. I can never get enough of that actor, oh – what's his name? Hm. Oh well, not important. He's so talented, there is no comparing him. Oh my, it's later than I thought it was. Not that it matter's, I'm not tired, how about you guys? Are you tired?"

Dick shrugged. "Not especially."

Tim coughed, feeling it was the best response.

Lisa was quiet after that.

* * *

"So how was the movie?" Bruce questioned as Alfred took Lisa's jacket. 

"Good, really good." Lisa answered, smiling at the man. "How was your evening alone?"

Tim and Dick hurried away, heading towards Tim's room, not bothering to stick around for the conversation. Once in the room Dick closed the door. "Oh man, I can't believe I was talked into going to a movie with my little brother and Bruce's fiancée."

"Hey, it's not like I wanted to go either." Tim snapped. "Don't act so much better. You're just mad because Bruce still has control over your life."

"Oh get off it, I didn't mean it like that. And Bruce _doesn't_ have control over my life; I went to the movie for you, last time you catch me helping out." Dick replied dropping on the bed and grabbing the remote. He turned the television on an appeared to be absorbed in it.

Tim stood for a moment, glaring at Dick. He hated it when his older brother got in a bad mood. It wasn't something they did often, but when it happened … it happened. "So it's my fault? Is that what you're saying?"

"Tim, let it go." The other boy answered, eyes glued to the television.

"I didn't want to go either." The boy pointed out angrily.

"I never said you did. Listen, maybe you need to sleep, because you're sure in one shitty mood." Dick snapped, flipping off the TV and getting to his feet. "I'm going to go home, talk to you later."

Tim collapsed on his bed, glaring at the ceiling.

"And maybe Barbara is right. Maybe Bruce does deserve to get married. Maybe we should grow up and let it happen."

"I never was planning on not letting it happen." Tim seethed.

"No, but you're being a brat about it."

Tim sat up with a start. "Look whose talking! I thought you were going home, what happened to that!"

The other boy quirked an eyebrow in response, then shook his head. "Whatever dude." And Dick flipped the light off, proving his authority, and then closed the door – leaving.

"**Jerk**!"

* * *

Tim awoke in the middle of the night to someone pulling him up, placing him on the ground. He lashed his arm out. "Ah? What the _hell_?" 

It was Bruce, and he proceeded to drag Tim out of the room. "No time, Dick's been hurt." The man rasped, pulling the boy down the hall. "The hospital called, he was in a car wreck."

At this Tim almost collapsed, his legs became weak and he felt himself slow down. "I-Is he ok?"

"We're going to find out."

* * *

Tim sat beside Bruce, staring down at his bare feet. They'd been here for the last half hour and Dick was in surgery, the doctors rapidly trying to save him. The wreck had been bad. _Really_ bad. 

They hadn't even seen him yet, even though Bruce got mad and scary – Batman scary. They told them no.

"Mr. Wayne?"

Bruce looked up at the doctor. "Yes?"

"Come with me."

The man got to his feet, and Tim followed.

They came to a room, an office where they were instructed to sit down. Tim felt stomach churn as he sat down in the armchair, looking at Bruce, not wanting to look at the doctor. He didn't want to hear, he didn't want to know.

"How is my son?" Bruce managed in a soft voice. "How is he?"

At this Tim found his voice. "_Bruce_?" He whispered, his breathing becoming irregular.

"I'm sorry Mr. Wayne … he, um, he didn't make it." And the rest of the man's words were drowned out. Tim felt his jaw start to shake, he felt his body go numb, and the tears start.

"Bruce?" He repeated, shaking violently. "Bruce?"

Bruce looked over at Tim, and then nodded, reaching out and taking the boy's arm, pulling him over to where he sat. Tim collapsed into the man, trying to drown out the words of the doctor by burying his face in his mentor's shoulder. He couldn't stop crying, and he didn't want to.

The man held Tim in silence. Bruce listening as the doctor told him what had happened, everything from the accident to the surgery to Dick passing away. He had forced himself to listen, and when the doctor finished, he told the man that he could stay as long as he need – indicating to a sobbing Tim.

Tim felt the arms holding him grow tighter and the boy stopped crying abruptly at the feel of silent sobbing.

"He's g-gone." Bruce managed, pulling Tim closer, rocking slightly.

Tim closed his eyes as his breathing became irregular once more. Tears streamed down his face, and he hurt. He hurt everywhere, and he hurt badly. It hurt like when his dad had left him, hurt worse. That brought on a new wave of tremors and tears. He pressed his face into Bruce's shoulder, sobbing. "Make it sto-hah-hop, make it go away."

_To be continued… _

**Shadow Avenger:** Thanks for the comment! I'm happy you took a liking to this. I'm stilling working on Ghosts in the Closet(s)? I forget the title! ACK! Ok, but I actually have a chapter almost done. Oooo. Yeah, too half a year. I just got behind with other stuff, bleh, lol. I'm enjoying your Beast Boy fanfiction, I'm happy to see that you're writing! I knew you were, but I wasn't sure if you still were. So I'm pleased.

**Catgirl:** Thanks so much, I'm glad you're reading too. What would I do if you didn't? LOL.


	3. Hurt

**Side Note:** I just can't help but think my Ron is like Ron from Harry Potter. Huh … it's not meant to be, but now it sticks out like crazy. Ron and Li are actually two names from people I got to know along the way. I just picked random names, like, three years ago.

"Sometimes I wonder if my beating heart has a reason. The thought of breathing only takes my breath away. I spent so many nights wrestling with this feeling – do I have the strength to make it through the day? Sometimes you wonder if the road you're on has a reason, it's hard to go on when you just don't know."

Michael W. Smith 'I Will Carry You'

**_In My Arms Again: _**

By: The BatThing

For: Ariel

**Chapter Three: **

"Do not withhold your mercy from me, O Lord; may your love and truth always protect me. For troubles without number surround me; my sin has overtaken me, and I cannot see. They are more than the hairs on my head, and my heart fails within me."

Tim gripped his hands together, not listening to the preacher speaking. He didn't lift his head, when he looked around at the church, or at the people, at the black – it just made him sick.

"Be pleased, O Lord, to save me. O Lord, come quickly to help me. May all who seek to take my life be put to shame and confusion; may all who desire my ruin be turned back in disgrace. May those who say to me, 'Aha! Aha!' be appalled at their own shame. But may all who seek you rejoice and be glad in you; may those who love your salvation always say, The Lord be exalted."

Barbara sat with her father, and Tim could hear her breathing hard, breathing like it hurt to breathe. That made him sick too.

Bruce just sat next to him, staring towards the man speaking. The man's eyes cold, not ready to show emotion in front of these people. Tim had cried enough, he couldn't cry anymore, but he could still hurt. It seemed like that would _never_ go away, _never_ get any better. He grabbed his arm, as if to steady himself, and dug his fingernails into the skin. Silent as he watched the blood collect.

"Yet I am poor and needy; may the Lord think of me. You are my help and my deliver; O my God, do not delay."

Tim sat on his bed, still unchanged from the funeral. All he had done was start with his tie, but that ended quick enough. The boy just stared at the window, exhausted.

"Tim?"

The boy turned, looking behind him to see Bruce walking into his room. He didn't say anything, just stared.

"I need to talk to you about your being Robin." The man cleared his throat a little. "I've come to a decision, and I - I don't want you out there anymore."

If Tim could express more emotion he would. He would have yelled, he'd have protested, he would have made Bruce _take_ _that_ _back_. Robin was who he was, his life, Robin was all he had - all he had left of Dick. Tim looked at the man momentarily and then laid down on his bed and covering his face with his arms.

"It's not necessary anymore." Bruce said. He heard Tim chocking back the tears and gasping harshly, the man sighed. "It's for the best." He paused, listening to the crying a little more and then left, closing the door behind him.

Tim rolled over and pushed his face in his pillow as he started to cough from the shortness of breath. It was strange, when he thought he couldn't cry anymore he found himself back where he started. "M-mom?"

_Mom?_

The boy dragged his hand across his eyes, not understanding why he said that other than it _seemed_ right. He didn't even know his mother, never ever saw her, and here he was calling for the woman.

"Hey, Tim." Ron slid into the seat beside his friend and offered a small smile. It was clear the boy considered this an awkward situation, and Tim couldn't blame him for that.

"Hey, what'd I miss?" Tim managed, trying his best to sound like he cared, to act involved. After all, no one liked uncomfortable situations.

The other boy glanced around, his eyes resting on the clock. "Hm, not much - besides homework. It was really boring without you though. Li isn't much for company." A small smile sprouted on the Ron's face.

"Li's a girl, and girls aren't much for company."

"_Ouch_."

The two boys looked up to find their friend dropping her backpack to the seat behind them.

"And I was about ready to ask you if you wanted to copy my homework." Li smirked, pulling out her notebook and handing it to Tim. "I'll cut you a break, just this once."

"I didn't mean anything bad by it; I'm just in a mood." Tim accepted the notebook and stared at it for a moment. "Thanks."

"Just don't let anyone find you with that." The girl answered as she took her seat.

"Thanks."

"Mmh-hmm."

The three were silent, and Tim knew he shouldn't worry about it. After all, it's not like they could say much. He turned around to face the front of the class and lay his head down. He didn't even want to come to school, and Alfred would have let him stay home.

But Bruce made sure that the boy went, saying that Tim shouldn't get behind in school. The boy hated the man for saying that.

"Glad to see you with us today, Mr. Drake. I was sorry to hear about your family problems, but it's nice that you're back."

The boy lifted his head to see his teacher enter the room.

She made her way to her desk, though kept talking. "I have your make up homework up here; see me after class and we'll go over it."

"Ok."

"So Tim, how are things going?" Li suddenly asked, leaning forward. "Are you doing alright, then?"

Tim smiled, nodding. "Sure I am." He had practiced it all morning in the car, saying it over and over in his mind. _Sure I am. It's good to be back._ "It's good to be back."

Li smiled at him, and that did it. The boy shot up from his seat, grabbed his backpack and hurried out of the classroom.

"Tim?"

"Tim!"

He pushed his way through the crowds of people, grinding his teeth together. He wasn't ready to be here, not yet, no matter what Bruce said, no matter what Bruce thought. '_I'm not you. I'm notlike** you. **I have a … heart._'

"_Tim_!"

The boy came to a halt, clutching his backpack with an iron grip. He didn't turn to face his friend; rather, he lowered his head, glaring at the ground. "Leave me alone, Li. I'm going home."

"Ok, that's ok. You can go home." It was Ron talking now, the boy sounded a little embarrassed. "You want us to call for you?"

Tim shook his head, closing his eyes. "No."

Li and Ron were silent, exchanging looks of worry.

The boy took a deep breath and pulled out his cell phone, calling Alfred.

"_Wayne residence."_

"I-I'm sorry. I need to come home, Alfred."

"_Of course, Master Tim, I'll be right there." _

"Thanks." Tim hung up and looked at his friends, wondering why he even bothered with them. He didn't need friends; he didn't even really _want_ friends. All he had needed was his brother. Dick listened, Dick understood, Dick cared.

Li offered a small smile. "We'll wait with you."

Ron nodded, agreeing with the statement. "Heh, it'll get us out of Calc if anything. The last thing I need is to listen to Ms. Stuart carry on and on about graphing tangents."

Tim studied them momentarily as the bell rang overhead, causing a rush of panic, cleaning the halls of most of their peers. The boy took a deep breath, and then shrugged his shoulders. "Sure."

"We're not staying with you just to get out of Pre-Calculus, Tim." The girl said, tugging at her hair. "So don't think that."

"Sure."

The three were silent as they walked towards the front office.

"I think you have to see the counselor or something if you want to get out." Ron suddenly blurted out. "Sorry, that sounded weird, didn't it? I just mean – that's what we're supposed to do, right?"

"I think I'm just going to walk out. If anyone asks, I don't care." Tim made his way for the doors, and was surprised to find the two still trailing behind him. He turned around, finally deciding he needed to end this. "Listen, guys, its cool, I'm fine. You don't have to wait with me. You'll just get into trouble for skipping class."

Li made an expression that was hard to read, so Tim didn't bother trying. It was a look Barbara occasionally gave. "We want to wait with you."

"I told you I'm fine." Tim growled. "I'm _fine_."

"If you're fine, then why are you going home? If you were fine you'd stay here." Li snapped, then put a hand over her mouth, looking at Ron – as if he'd be of some help. "Shit, I'm sorry, Tim. I just, I don't know, I guess I _want_ to help."

"I was thinking of not coming back." The boy replied, looking at the doors. "Just be home schooled."

Now Ron was making a similar expression to Li's. "Home schooled? Tim, you're joking, right?"

"No, I'm serious … I think."

"_Dude_." Ron breathed.

Tim scuffed his tennis shoe at the floor, and then shrugged his shoulders. "Thanks for waiting, I think I can mange here on out. See you guys later." And with that he hurried out the front doors.

"Bruce'll be mad at me." Tim told Alfred on the way home. He knew his voice sounded a little bitter, but he didn't care. It was true; Bruce would probably have a fit. "He'll say I shouldn't have left."

"Don't presume to know how Master Bruce will react." The butler lightly scolded. "He is not as unfair as you make him out to be."

Tim let out a small sigh, and turned to look out the window. "Did you have friends in high school, Alfred?" There was a long pause, and when Tim looked up to see why the butler wasn't answering he found the man looking intently at him through the rearview mirror.

The man finally answered, still looking a little surprised at the question. "I did."

"Did you like them?"

There was another surprised look, and then a long pause. "Do you not 'like your friends'?"

The boy leaned forward, tugging at his seatbelt. "They're a little annoying, more so than usual. I mean, it's mostly just Ron and me, sometimes Li, and sometimes Henry, but mostly not."

Silence.

"I guess I just don't see a point in _having_ friends." The boy finally let out. "Dick always told me to hang out with them, you know? But I always figured being Robin was more important, it _was_ more important. So I never bothered with them that much. I guess I just am bored sometimes. And it's not like I can call up Barb and ask her to hang out."

"Miss Gordon wouldn't mind." Alfred replied. "I've heard her ask you to call her."

"She doesn't _want_ me to call, Al, when I did she just burst into tears after telling me how much I reminded her of Dick."

Alfred was silent once more.

"And my friends at school, well, I don't; like them that much. It's not that they're mean or dumb. I just don't like them." Tim admitted. "So I was thinking, maybe you could talk Bruce into letting me be home schooled."

"Master Tim …" Alfred let out a long sigh, and glanced back at the boy. "I'll talk with him about it."

"Thanks."

"Home schooled?"

Alfred stood in Bruce's study, hands folded behind him as he gave his head a small tilt. "It's what he'd like."

"And you think that it's a good idea?"

The butler offered no expression to say otherwise. "I believe that Master Tim is having trouble being around other people, at the moment."

Bruce leaned back, giving his head a little shake as he quirked an eyebrow. "What do you suggest?"

"Perhaps you should talk with him."

"Talk with him?"

Alfred gave a slow nod. "I believe you and Master Tim haven't spoken much since Master Richard's funeral. Today the boy expressed some – well – concern that you'd be upset for him coming home. In my opinion I believe he might think you're currently upset with him, or displeased in some way."

"I'm not." Bruce snipped, looking out the window. "I've just been busy, Tim knows that."

The butler stood in silence.

"You disagree?"

"Master Tim also mentioned you taking away his being Robin. The young sir wasn't happy about it."

"I took it away because of what happened to Dick."

Once more, silence.

"Lisa's coming over tonight." Bruce told the man. "I invited her over for dinner, I hope you don't mind. It was a last minute thing."

_To be continued …_

**Robin IV:**You're a Tim fan? Possibly? I'm just assuming because of the name. Anyhow, yes, I killed Dick! I'm sorry! I didn't think about it, it just happened. ;-( that's me crying. I've written a fanfiction too many with characters from the Batgang dying, my heart is hard. But anyhow, thanks so much for the review! I hope you keep reading. I don't know what's going to happen, I won't lie, but something'll turn up.

**Ronica:** Did you know you're actually where I got the name Ron from? I doubt it. And you know what I doubt more? That you'll see this, so I'm laughing a little now. Anyhow, finish your fanfiction! No more SeaQuest till you do! ;-)

**Marcie Gore:** Awh! I know you! I think I've read a few of your stories before, so it's an honor that you're actually reading mine. Thanks so much! I hope you keep reading, lol, well, only keep reading if it's good. Never read bad fanfictions. ;-) Anyhow, thanks so much for the review.

**Caerula: **Always good to hear from you! Don't worry; I actually have the next chapter of Ghosts in the Closets done, so that'll be up sometime in the future. I swear I'll finish that fanfiction, even if it kills me. Ha, I'll be dead before I stop writing it. Thanks for the review!

**Shadow Avenger:** You must finish The Beast Boy fanfic (never ever thought I'd ask that, seeing how I hate the Titans). I adore you and your fanfiction. LOL. Thanks for always sticking around and reading. You really think this is an 'ok' chappie? Cool deal! I must brag to someone! I already have a fat head.

**Fanficlover:** You're going to make me cry. I wish I had never killed the poor guy now. The person I am writing this for even told me not to write one where Dick dies, but I go ahead and wrote it anyhow. I'm awful. Ack. Hmm. I should look into writing happier fanfictions. Thanks a ton for reading!

**Trecebo:** LOLIRL (in real life). You're review made me laugh. Lisa is a dork, we can all say that. She's just there for no good reason. Well, she makes Bruce seem worse than usual at times I guess. That's not good though. LOL, thanks for the read, review, and the laugh!

**Sara:** I just got your E-mail today! I was in Alabama with my best friend all last week. Then I decided to be lazy and drive back to school this morning rather than last night. So I haven't had my computer for over a week. I did read your additions, and trust me I'll write you a response! I love when you send me fanfics! Hugs I'm glad you're feeling better, and hope your Thanksgiving was better than ever! Thanks for the review and read!


	4. Goodnight, Goodnight

"The wind is moving but I am standing still, a life of pages waiting to be filled. A heart that's hopeful. A head that's full of dreams. Yet this becoming is harder than it seems, feel's like I'm looking for a reason, roaming through the night to find my place in this world. Not a lot to lean on, I need your light to help me find my place in this world. Can you hear me asking: where do I belong? Is there a vision I can call my own?"

- Michael W. Smith 'Place in this World' -

_**In My Arms Again: **_

By: The BatThing

For: Ariel (Happy Birthday)

**Chapter Four: **

"Hey Barb."

"Hey Timmy." The girl on the other line sounded distant, like she didn't really want to be talking to the boy, but for some reason was forcing herself to do so. She cleared her throat and offered a small, and rather awkward, chuckle. "Alfred tells me you want to be home schooled."

Tim took a moment to think over that. "I do, yeah. I don't think it's going to happen anytime soon though, you know – Bruce doesn't really want me to leave my school for social reasons."

"I think that's wise."

"Right."

"You don't sound like you agree."

The 15-year-old closed his eyes for a moment. "Why would I agree, Barb?"

"Maybe because he usually knows what he's talking about. Give him a chance, the last thing you need right now is to seclude yourself. Home schooling is just the easy way out, not the right way."

"Since when do I care about what's right and what's easy? Bruce sure doesn't, so why in the world should I care?"

The girl made an unintelligent noise followed by a sigh.

Tim took this as an indication to go on. He couldn't help but feel somewhat upset with Barbara Gordon. How dare she lecture him on something like this? She had no right, whatsoever, to tell him what to do. "The right thing would for me to be Robin, but Bruce took that away. You can't tell me _he_ didn't take the easy way out."

"He's staying with Lisa, which I think is wonderful. He's not taking the easy way out there. He's doing what's right."

"Being with Lisa is right? Where do you get off!"

Barbara made a clicking noise. "He found someone he _loves_, Tim! You know how hard that is? To find someone like that! He's staying with her, even though his son just died and the easiest thing would be to leave the girl."

Tim could read between the lines. Barbara was thinking of Dick, and blaming Tim for being selfish, blaming Tim for reminding her. The boy listened in silence, starting to feel somewhat guilty.

"You need to just understand that you can't always get your way. Not always, sometimes Bruce needs something. Try and get over the fact that the world doesn't revolve around you. Other people _hurt_, other people need to be _healed_!"

The boy considered saying he was sorry, but instead hung up the phone, cutting out the girl who he viewed as a sister.

* * *

"Come on Tim, you're totally being a pansy about this whole thing." Ron said as he sat down on the crowded couch. He looked up at his friend and released a sigh. People crowded all around the room and Tim couldn't help but feel slightly annoyed. He had been talked into coming to this party. "Who'd ever find out? I mean honestly, I do this every single weekend and my mom hasn't a clue!"

"Could it be because she's never home?" Tim snapped.

"She's home more than _Bruce Wayne._" The other boy shot back, glaring at his friend. "Why do you have to be like this? You _could_ loosen up; I didn't drag you out here so you could mope around and _complain_. This is what _I do_; this is what _kids our age_ do. If you'd step back, you'd realize that."

Tim quirked a smile at his friend sitting before him, then shook his head – like he regretted it. "You're a nasty drunk. You know that?"

Ron shrugged his shoulders and took a sip from the paper cup in his hand. "Come on, if you're so worried that you'll be caught, you can stay the night at my house. After all, you said that Mr. Wayne wanted you to spend more time with kids your age. Am I right? I know I'm right."

"It's like a frat party." Tim offered as he looked around. "Seriously, it's just a bunch of rich kids getting drunk. That's all this is."

His friend looked confused. "I'm not rich."

"I'll be right back, ok? I'm calling Bruce and telling him I'll stay the night at your house." And Tim hurried out of the crowded house and walking down the street. He waited patiently as Alfred picked up the phone. "Hey Al, I was just calling to let you know I was planning on staying the night at Ron's, ok?"

"I will run it by Master Bruce, young sir, if you would wait a moment." Alfred sounded pleased, and Tim could venture a guess why. The butler was convinced that Tim needed to spend time away from the manor, and Tim felt some what better about the ordeal. "The answer is yes, have fun – Master Timothy."

"I will Alfred, see you later." And Tim hung up, feeling rather foolish – but at the same time – pretty good about the whole thing.

"Dude, just tell her!" Tim insisted as he watched Ron stumble slightly. He started to laugh, it was somewhat funny – though he was pretty sure it wasn't. But it felt good to laugh, after all, he hadn't laughed since Dick had died. _Not_ _once_. "It's not like she feels the same."

"She doesn't? How do you know?"

"No, I said it's _not like she doesn't_ feel the same." Tim repeated. He thought about it a little more and decided not even he understood. "You know what?"

"What?" Ron questioned.

Tim put a hand to his forehead and looked around. "I feel sick, man."

"Don't puke in my car."

"We're not even in your car yet." Tim laughed.

"I know, but when we get in my car – don't puke. I think it was a bad idea bringing you to that party, Tim. You're a _crazy_ drunk. You're totally wasted. How much did you drink?"

The boy considered, and then shrugged his shoulders. "I 'dunno."

Ron turned to Tim. "Do you even like Michaela? I was under the impression that you didn't. I mean, in school when she flirts with you, well, usually you blow her off and ignore her."

"She's pretty."

"I sure hope you know what you're talking about. In the morning, when you ask me why I didn't stop you from making out with her – I'll tell you that you said you _liked_ her, and that she was _pretty_."

"Are you calling Li?"

"I don't even have my phone out. Get in the car." Ron growled. "Dude, I swear, never again is this happening. Get. In. The. Car."

Tim shook his head as he started to walk away. "No way. No way, no way, no way. You drank; I'm not getting in that car with you."

"I drank, yeah, but I'm not drunk. Tim!" Ron growled, jogging after his friend. He grabbed the other boy by the jacket, pulling him back. "TIM!"

The first time drunk stumbled back, and he angrily lashed out his fist at the boy holding onto his jacket. "Get the hell offa' me, asshole! I'm not getting in that car! You drank! I'm not allowed."

Ron was getting more and more upset with his friend. "Oh my god, Tim, you're unbearable. You try and hit me one more time; I don't know what I'll do. If you don't get in that car, I – I'll call your home."

"I can't go home with you. That's how Dick died, _in his car_!"

"I won't get us in any trouble, I can drive just fine, I swear. Come on, trust me this once, you'll see." Ron grabbed a hold of Tim's arm only to receive a fist in the face. "Damn it!" He would have gone on about it, but a set of flashing lights put an end to that.

A police car pulled to the side of the road and Ron shook his head, shoved Tim, and ran for his car. All at once, for Tim, things seemed more normal. He started backwards as he watched two cops exit the car, both running towards him and Ron.

In a mere matter of moments they were there, one holding tightly to Tim's collar and the other sprinting after the running boy.

"How old are you, kid?" The man holding onto Tim's hood questioned. "You look a little young to be out so late – and not to mention – to be drinking."

And as if the night couldn't get any worse, Tim bent over and found himself throwing up in front of _everyone_.

* * *

Tim was silent as he watched Bruce signing some papers. "So, this is officially the worst night of my week."

Ron, who wasn't talking to him, glared.

"Oh come on, you were the one who talked me into it. Remember?"

"I didn't make you get drunk! I just told you to lighten up! Remember?"

"You were _implying_."

"_Fuck_ _you_. If you had just gotten in the car none of this would have happened." Ron spat, kicking the chair in front of him. "My mom's going to cry for days, and go into this whole ordeal where she blames my dad – then they'll both start to fight – and guess what, it'll be _miserable_. All you have to worry about is -"

Tim turned sharply, shoving his friend hard. "_What_? All I have to worry about is **_what_**? I'm in more trouble than you've ever known! You're parents don't blame you for this, you don't get into trouble! That's the problem. Me? Oh, yeah – I only have a reputation to _uphold_. Tomorrow this'll be all over the papers, but your name will become: _and a_ _friend_."

Ron shook his head, rubbing his shoulder where he had been struck. "You're a nasty drunk, you know that! Geesh, no wonder you don't live with your real parents."

And with that Tim swung out his fist, knocking the boy off the chair. He leapt on top of his friend and drilled another fist into the boy's unprotected face. "You don't know _anything_!"

"Get offa' me!"

"_You don't know_ **_anything_**!" Tim shrieked as he felt a hand grab him under the arm, forcing him up. He tried to pull away only to get jerked back. "_He started it_!"

"Are you ok?" Ron's mother was beside her son, helping him up with a concerned expression. "Honey, let me see your face."

Tim watched in silence, seething as the mother helped her son up, fussing over him.

"I'm so sorry." Bruce was saying, still holding onto Tim with an iron grasp. "Is he ok?"

The mother looked at Bruce, as if she didn't know what to say to that. She was clearly no longer a fan of Tim – and was debating on whether or not to answer the man who raised him. She gave a nod and a nervous smile, ushering Ron towards the water fountain to clean his face.

Tim was ready to defend himself against any allegations. He glared at the ground, wishing his arm would be released, due to the pain he was feeling. "That wasn't my fault. You can ask anybody, that _wasn't_ _my_ _fault_."

Bruce looked down at his ward, and then started for the double door leading outside, pulling Tim behind him every step of the way. When they got to the car, Bruce opened the boy's door and watched him get it. Without a word, he slammed the door shut at walked around to his side.

Tim fumed; he couldn't believe how unfair this whole ordeal was. How utterly unfair everyone was being. Not a word was spoken as the car pulled out of the parking lot. Tim waited a few moments, and then began. "It's not like _you_ never drink."

"I am not about ready to discuss this with you until you sober up." Bruce growled. "But I will tell you one thing, you've _lost _my trust. You _lied_ to me."

"I lied to Alfred." Tim growled. "I lied to him! _You_ didn't answer the phone."

"Give me strength." Bruce muttered, hands clenching the wheel. "Timothy Drake, you have no idea what you've done tonight. How stupid and how selfish you've been."

"I know exactly what I did! I was being _me_!"

"_This is not you_."

"How would you know? Huh? How the hell would you know? You took away all I had! You took it away from me! You don't know anything about anything! All you care about is Lisa, that's all – and I hate her! I don't like her, _I hate her_!"

"I refuse to discuss this." Bruce managed. "Not right now. Just be quiet till we get home."

"Yeah, well I don't wanna' go home."

"Yeah, well, you _don't have a choice_."

Tim cursed under his breath and stared out the window with a passion. "_I hate you."_

He didn't receive a rise out of Bruce with his last statement. The man driving fell deadly silent for the rest of the way home. And once he pulled into the garage and shut off the car, he turned to Tim. "You can hate me all you want, but that doesn't change what you did. I have never been more disappointed in you than I am right now."

The boy was silent.

"Dick died because of alcohol. He died because someone who was _drunk_ was _driving_. It's not something to mess around with, not that. What if you had gotten into that car? What if you had decided to take that chance? What then?"

"I don't know." Tim said slowly, the mention of Dick's death bringing him down the earth faster than anything else that had happened that night. Images of his brother consumed his mind. He started for the house. "I don't want to talk about Dick."

"Well we're going to." Bruce snapped, pulling the boy back and pushing him against the car. "What you did was dangerous, selfish, and completely immature _and_ irresponsible. First off you had Ron drive you to that party. Ron barely has his drivers permit – not license – his **permit**. Then you call and lie to us, saying that you're staying the night at your friend's house. Then you decide to get drunk, so you get taken in. And as if it's not enough, you decide to beat up your best friend. And finally, to top it off, you continue to be extremely disrespectful."

The boy rolled his eyes. "I'm not the only kid in the world who -."

Bruce shook his head, indicating that the boy shouldn't go on. "Enough is enough; you know what you did wrong. There are no excuses, so don't make them. What I want from you is to sleep. We can talk about it more in the morning."

Tim gave his foot a childish stomp, catching the man's full attention. "Why is it that you ignore me all up until I do something dumb! Why is it that for weeks you push me aside, treat me like I'm not there? You don't care about what I did, _you just care that I got caught_!"

"That's not true."

"It IS true! You're worried that the press'll ruin your image with this."

"That's not true."

"You don't care about me; you don't care about what I want or what I need. You just ignore me! Dick dies, and if I don't hurt enough, you take away Robin. I hate Lisa, yet you don't care, you think she's the _world_! Well, what about me? Huh? When do I get to matter? _When do I get to be_ _important_!" The boy felt his heart pounding as he finished his tantrum. He looked at Bruce's shocked expression and then took off, in a sprint, for the Manor. Never before had he felt more childish.

Alfred was saying something to him as he dashed up the stairs, but the boy ignored him. He fled into his room, slamming the door shut so hard that pictures clattered to the floor. He fumbled with the lock, and finally managed to get it flipped. Tim stared at the door and then backed up to his bed, slowly sitting down – waiting. Waiting to hear Bruce's footsteps pounding up after him or to hear the front door slam and his guardian yell.

But there was nothing.

For a long time there was _nothing_ but silence.

And then the sound of a door opening followed by light voices below. Tim crawled under his covers, pulling them over his head as he hid beneath. He didn't mean to get in trouble, but here he was – cowering under the comforter.

And slowly he fell into a fitful sleep.

_To be continued …_

**Tracebo**: LOL, yeah, Bruce is being some what of an idiot with the whole ordeal. In this chapter he actually has contact with Tim, so that's a start. Pranks, eh? That would be good, not to mention humorous! Thanks so much for the review, I'm glad you enjoyed the last chapter!

**MikiNare:** Thanks! You're a Tim fan too? The more the merrier! Tim fans welcome here, that's my motto. Yeah, Lisa's not my favorite person in the world either – and I write her! LOL, how's that? Hmm. Anyhow, thanks for the review, I'm glad you took the time to read my ramblings!

**E. Nagrom:** Yeah, poor Alfred. I think in the next chapter I'll have him chew Bruce out or something. He's always caught in the middle; I can't begin to imagine what that's like for him. Barbara, Barbara – I wrote a chapter that didn't make the cut for this fanfiction with her all over it. But in the end it just didn't flow right with what I wanted. She should come into the fanfic more, but we'll see. Thanks for the kind words!

**Caerula**: LOL, yea! A review from Caerula! I'm learning to love your reviews more and more! Especially your thoughtful one in: Ghosts in the Closets. It really was useful, not going to lie. Thanks so much for reviewing, and if you ever see anything wacky that doesn't sound, look, or feel right – please tell me. Thanks so much for the review, always glad to get them!


	5. Rainy Day Feeling

"You and I got something, but it's all and then it's nothing to me. And I got my defenses when it comes to your intentions with me. And we wake up in the break down of the things we never thought we could be. I'm not the one who broke you. I'm not the one you should fear. I thought I lost you somewhere, but you were never really there at all. Once you get free, talk to me. I wanted to be all you need, but somehow here is gone."

**GooGoo Dolls** _Here is Gone_

_**In My Arms Again**_

By: The BatThing

**Chapter Five: **Rainy Day Feeling

Tim woke up sick. Head pounding, throat burning, eyes' heavy, hard to breathe _sick_. He slowly slid out of the covers, pushing them aside as he set his feet on the floor. He hardly wanted Bruce to find out he was sick, it would be like an extra 'I told you so'. He made his way downstairs, after getting dressed, and sat at the dinning room table.

"Good morning, Master Timothy."

"Mornin' Alfred." The boy took the juice set before him and drank it down as quickly as he could. The orange juice felt good on his sore throat. The boy glanced at his toast and egg sandwich, and then sighed. If he didn't eat Alfred would have a heyday, but toast was going to hurt. "Can I have yogurt or something?"

The butler looked at the boy, then nodded, a little curious as to the reason. Tim never enjoyed yogurt that much. He took the boy's plate and left the room.

"Damn food." The boy whispered as he drank more of his juice. The door behind him clicked open and Tim whipped around, spilling his juice all over the table. He stood up with a start, but it was too late to save his jeans. The juice ran onto his pant leg.

Bruce didn't say anything as he sat down. He glanced at Tim, but the boy wouldn't meet his eyes. Rather, the teenager left the room to go change his clothes.

"Where did Master Timothy go?" Alfred questioned as he came from the kitchen with a bowl of yogurt and a plate of breakfast for Bruce.

"Spilled his juice, went to go change I suppose."

"Ah." The butler set the food down, pulled a towel that was resting on his shoulder down, and cleaned the mess. "You two are not getting along this morning any more than last night?"

Bruce sipped his coffee as he read through the morning's paper. "Now probably isn't the best time to talk about that. He'll be back and things might get awkward."

There was a pause and Alfred moved away from the table. "I am sure things are not 'awkward' already."

Tim came down and sat at the table a few moments later, moving his chair slightly away from his mentor and then started on his yogurt. It was cold and felt good, though he could have done without the chunks of blueberry. The boy attempted to scoop around them as he and Bruce ate in silence.

The boy glanced at the paper Bruce was reading and his heart sank. It wasn't the headlines, but it was still pretty bad. At the bottom of the page there was his picture from last night. Apparently some photographer had gotten him and Bruce walking out of the police station. That, or paid for it from the police. The boy turned a shade of red and flooded his attention to his undeserving yogurt.

Alfred came out again, with juice and placed it before Tim. "Are you feeling alright, Master Timothy?"

"M'Fine." The boy answered, his voice as loud as he could manage, which was still pretty soft – and raspy.

"You don't sound fine."

"Forget it, Alfred."

"Tim." Bruce warned from behind his papers.

The boy lowered his head. "Sorry, Alfred, I'm just a little tired s'all."

The butler let the matter go, for the boy's sake, and retreated back to the kitchen. Tim knew he would probably hear about it later, once Bruce was out of sight. It was nice that Alfred was that thoughtful.

Bruce got up a few minutes later, took another sip of his coffee then started for the door. There was no goodbye from the man, not that the boy was expecting one, but it had been an _idea_. Alfred came in then, looking at Tim with a frown.

"You are sick."

The boy shook his head. "I'm not, I swear."

This didn't do anything for the boy. The butler seemed to know better. He put a hand to Tim's forehead and shook his head. "It is probably from the other night."

"Alfred, come on, I'm _fine_. I just am a little slower today is all. In a few minutes I'll be better, I just needed to eat."

"You and Master Bruce fought."

This was a turn of conversation. Tim shrugged his shoulders as he swirled his spoon in the blue sauce bowl. There wasn't a very good chance he could fool Alfred, so he didn't bother trying. "Yeah, I guess so."

"You have been treated unfairly." Alfred said slowly. "You have also treated others in the same manner. Master Bruce and Ms. Lisa _love_ each other. You must understand that."

The boy didn't want to hear this, not from Alfred. He bent his head down, looking at his yogurt. He sorely missed Dick, and wished his brother were here – to talk to, to laugh with, to understand, and to take his side when others wouldn't.

Alfred kept talking in a hushed tone. "You may feel replaced, you may feel deceived – and in some ways you have been. Master Bruce was wrong not to tell you he was getting this serious with a young woman. You had the right to know such things. And he should not have taken away Robin from you in the manner he did. But you must understand that this was not done with a cruel intent, he cares for you, Master Timothy, no matter what you may think."

_Dick_. _Dick_. _Dick_. Tim tried to focus his thoughts on his friend, on his brother, but it just made matters worse. He didn't want to hear what Alfred was saying, but the words were getting in, making him mad. '_No one is on my side, Dick. Not Alfred, not Barbara, not Bruce …you're gone and I'm alone._'

"Master Richard's death scared him, so he ended the possibility that you might end up in the line of danger while being Robin. I doubt he could bear the thought of loosing you, especially since the death of Master Dick was so painful."

"I don't care." Tim snapped with a scratchy voice. He got to his feet and glared at Alfred. "I don't give a flying fuck about what _he_ _thinks or _feared! I don't give a shit what any of you think! I can't wait till I can get _the hell outta' here_! I wish I never came here, I wish my dad were here! I wish I didn't have to live each day not able to have an opinion, or, or a _fucking_ voice."

Alfred was clearly in shock.

"And you know what else! If Dick knew, he'd – he'd …" The boy's voice faded to a halt. He slowly turned to see a very upset figure in the doorway.

"How dare you speak to Alfred like that." Bruce growled, having heard the yelling. "And what would Dick do if he knew? Huh? I suppose he'd hate us too, is that what you think? Dick would be disgusted with the way _you're_ acting!"

"Master Bruce -."

"I can tolerate a lot of things, Tim, but don't you ever - _ever_ speak to Alfred like that again."

Tim felt himself shaking with anger. He glared at Bruce and told himself that he needed to stand his ground. He couldn't run away like last time. There was a lot he'd love to say, but at the moment his mind was blank.

His mentor apparently was not at such a loss for words. "You have a right to be upset, but you do not have a right to get _that_ angry."

"Well, I am that angry." Tim said. He paused, mad beyond reason. "Fuck you. I'm _out of here_."

"Oh no you don't." Bruce pushed the boy back. "What are you going to do? Where are you going to go?"

"Away from here, I'll go any place that's _away from you_!"

"And do what? You don't have any money, and you can't earn anything to support you."

Tim sneered at that. "I managed just fine before. Dad taught me a few things that will prove of some use."

Bruce gave a sharp laugh. "Your father was a criminal who _died_ trying to do the right thing! I hardly think he'd enjoy the idea of his son stealing for a living."

"You don't know my dad! Don't talk like you know my _fuckin'_ _father_!"

"_ENOUGH_!" Alfred was on his feet, glaring at the set before him. "Master Bruce, maybe you are taking a wrong route. Master Timothy, you are sickly, hurt, and hardly know what you're saying. Master Tim was right - Master Richard would be disgusted if he knew what was happening. You both are acting in a very _ill_ manner."

Tim was quiet, looking at Alfred, suddenly wondering why he had yelled like he had at the man. He respected Alfred, and he knew that the butler loved him, knew that the butler did what was best for him. "M'sorry Alfred."

The man nodded. "It is quite alright, Master Tim, everybody deserves to have a tantrum or two every now and then. So long as they understand that there is always a mess to clean up afterwards."

"Yeah." Tim took in a gulp, feeling tears come to his eyes for no reason other than just happy Alfred was taking his side. The boy didn't want to leave Wayne Manor, and he almost had. It was a scary thought, never being able to visit Dick's grave again, or talk to Alfred about what worried him.

Bruce didn't say anything. He just stood, watching Alfred with careful eyes.

"Master Bruce, you love Miss. Lisa." The older man said slowly. "But maybe you need to take a step back and think a few things over before you marry her. If you cannot even hold what you have together already, then a marriage will _not_ work."

"You're telling me not to marry her?"

"I am telling you that it would be unwise to marry her at this point in time, yes." Alfred pulled his head up a little higher. "If you love her, you will do it. I hardly think she would want to enter into a family where your own child hates her. Where you and Master Timothy fight like this constantly, or where you have a runaway instead of a son."

Tim jerked his head up. "I'm not his son."

Alfred gave a skeptical look. "You should not speak until your anger has subsided. You will say foolish things that you _will_ regret."

The boy turned slightly red. What he said was true. He wasn't anybody's son. Not anybody's but Steven Drake's.

"You two need to take time to calm down. Time to think. Time to realize that perhaps there is something more important than you." Alfred bowed his head slightly. "I am going to go wash these dishes."

And he left.

Tim stood, slightly numb, not sure what to do.

"I am going to be late for work." Bruce said, and he started for the door.

'_I should have known_.' The boy told himself, fighting back another wave of emotions. '_He'll never chang-._'

"But we'll talk when I get home."

Oh. Tim turned quickly, but his mentor was gone, the door swinging shut. He stood for a few minutes, and then slowly walked out of the room, up the stairs, and to his bedroom. If they were going to talk, the boy was going to need his strength. He got back into bed and closed his eyes, and then started to shiver a little. He had been so close to leaving.

_To be continued …_

_**Next Chapter:** _THE TALK … Doom, doom, doom!

**Jedi4Jesus:** Love the name, lol, it's pretty awesome. Thanks for leaving a review, I'm glad you enjoyed the fanfic, hope this chapter is acceptable. ;-)

**Caerula:** Totally got your name right again, ha! Not gonna' lie … thanks for the review! LOL. Yeah, Tim needs to loose it every now and then. I think we all should be allowed to loose it every now and then, eh? I'm going to loose it this weekend, as I pack and study for finals! Gah! Thanks for the review!

**Candelblaise:** Yea! I miss you! LOL, that's a freaky thing to say. No, I just was like: I never get to really hear from any of you guys unless I post, which isn't so much. I need to post more. LOL. Fanfiction friend's rock! Your review for this was happy-ness for me! You are too nice to me. I'd claim credit for my good writing, but it's not true. I had too much help to do that. Thanks for always reading and reviewing!

**Shadow Avenger:** LOL, it's my bad talent – Tim trouble. Haha, when are you going to freakin' update, dude? I've been waiting and waiting, it's been too long. You must update or I might die. You're just as bad as me when it comes to updation. We should be like, reliance buddies – like alcoholics have. IM each other when we feel we can't write and it's been more than a month. I'll be like: _Write, you fool! You're too good not to write! _LOL.

**Trecebo:** Your review is too cool. I feel smarter just reading it. I even feel a little English. I think that's due to the morning comment. It made me think of tea and crumpets. Yeah, I totally agree, Tim needs to be like: "Dude, Bruce, you suck like, _bad_." And Bruce needs to be like: "Oh yeah, you're right. I hate Lisa." Hmm, that would be good. LOL. Thanks for the review!


	6. Whatever You Want

"Where's the navigator of your destiny? Who can explain life and it's relevantly? 'Cause there is nothing here that I can understand."

_Hello, Goodbye _Michael W. Smith

_**In My Arms Again:**_

**By: The BatThing**

**Chapter** **Six:**

Alfred scrubbed the white counters with the paper towel, the bleach working it's wonders – creating a shine, getting rid of stains, and making everything look newer. The butler tossed the paper towel out, once finished, and moved the Bleach back in the counter under the sink, closing it and latching the lock. Dusting off his hands he gave a small smile at the shining kitchen. If there was one feeling that never went raw it was the sight of seeing his kitchen clean and smelling fresh. The only thing that would make it better would be if there were windows. Sunlight would always be welcome in the Manor, according to him. Every room deserved the pleasure of sunlight.

Well, if he couldn't get it in the kitchen they he would just clean the sun room. The room was on the far side of the manor, facing toward the rocky cliffs, and beyond – the ocean. Three of its walls had six large windows on each side – creating a beautiful sight. And today it was sunny. Gathering his basket of sprays and disinfectants, rags and other such useful supplies, the older gentleman made his walk briskly, dwelling over the event of that morning.

He felt good about it, Master Bruce and Master Timothy would talk tonight – he knew it. Having known – having raised Bruce, the butler could tell when the man was taking something to heart.

Bruce wasn't exactly mean. He was just … so stubborn. Perhaps the death of his parents had done it, perhaps the death of his parents and the fact that he had been a billionaire since the young age of eight. Whatever the reasons, Bruce was no better (at times) then a spoiled child himself, a child that threw tantrums when things didn't go his way. A child that wouldn't talk, that would pout. Bruce _was_ mature. Bruce was a genius, smartest man Alfred knew. How could anyone not say that the Dark Knight Detective wasn't the smartest man?

It was just … he wasn't very good at dealing with people, and he didn't appear to want to. So, he never bothered trying. And that was that. Dick Grayson had been an amazing thing to come into Bruce's life, and the billionaire had learned from the boy, he had grown up an awesome amount due to the boy. Dick had taught him so much, taught him what Alfred had thought impossible.

Ah, the Sun Room was so warm today. The butler entered with a crisp smile, walking towards one of the windows and looking outside. It was really a beautiful day.

Taking out the Windex and the paper towels, Alfred began his cleaning routine, humming cheerfully to himself as he listened to the signing of the towel against the glass. It was the sound of clean.

* * *

Tim awoke with a start, sitting up straight in bed and blinking. His room was bright, considering it was 4 in the afternoon. Tossing of the blankets, slightly hot due to them, the teenager got out of bed. His flannel pajama pants were probably one of the reasons he was feeling so warm. And while it probably would have been best to change, he didn't.

Alfred would have a fit if he saw the boy walking around the house in his pajama pants.

Oh well.

Tim left the room, making his way to the staircase and going down slowly, chewing his lip as he remembered that Bruce was going to be home in about two hours. And that meant that they were going to talk.

Tim wanted to talk, he truly did. It was just … kind of scary. How could he tell his mentor everything? Past experiences taught him to do his best _not _to get into a confrontation with his guardian. Usually when such a thing happened he was either brushed aside, ignored, or in trouble. You don't tell the Batman he's wrong and not get into trouble. It was a rather simple thing.

But Batman was wrong at times, Bruce just didn't like to admit to it.

Define wrong, blah-blah-blah.

"Alfred?" Tim pushed the door open to the kitchen and frowned, not finding the man. He didn't take note of the clean room, something that was just taken for granite by him now. At first it had been a big deal, having lived in a dump, but now … it was just his house. The boy opened the fridge and frowned at the sight of only milk. Why weren't there any cokes in there? He turned to the pantry, opening the door and entering the room. Ducking down to his hands and knees he found the soft drinks on the floor, underneath the main shelves stocked with foods. Taking out a Sprite he turned went back to the kitchen, getting the coke ready to drink – ice, cup … yeah.

Now, with drink in hand, Tim continued his search for the butler. He made his way across a large portion of the house, calling out every few moments. Then, the boy decided to check for the car. Perhaps Alfred had left to go get something?

Grabbing his sweat jacket and slipping it on, he ran outside, dashing across to concrete in his bare feet. The cold stone due to the shadow the house was casting. He slipped into the large car garage and closed the door behind him. No, looked like Alfred's car was still there. Oh well, he didn't need the butler _so _bad. It was his excused day of school - he might as well enjoy it. Bruce had a shit load of cars that would make anyone in the World jealous. I mean honestly, the boy doubted some of the cars had ever been driven.

He touched the one Bruce had gotten Dick for the young man's sixteenth birthday – the one that Dick _now_ refused to drive. Bruce still kept it, though it was never driven, and when Tim asked about it he only got the cold shoulder. He had gotten the basics of the story from Alfred, but not much more than that.

Tim's birthday wasn't for about a month, and he couldn't help but wonder if _he'd _get a car. Consider all that happened – well, Alfred wouldn't forget anyway. The boy circled the car and then opened the door, climbing on side of it, sitting in the front seat and putting his hands on the wheel. The keys were right on the dash, as if to tempt anyone who saw them. Tim carefully picked them up and pushed them into the ignition, twisting it back, starting the car.

He sat and listened to it hum, run. He wondered how Dick had felt when he had started his car for the first time.

The boy leaned back in the seat with a sigh, staring through the windshield, his eyes slowly closing.

* * *

Bruce paced across the carpeted floor, hands clasped behind his back as he looked rather business like. "I'm not suggesting anything like that, Mr. Thomas, I am simply stating that Mr. Fox has a very good idea that he is presenting us with."

"Mr. Wayne, I understand but -."

"You don't want any part in it." Bruce finished for him, stopping for a moment to look out the window of his spacious office located at Wayne Enterprises. "I respect your choice, and I realize that you are doing what you think is best for your company."

"I am."

"Yes, but what about the workers of your company, Mr. Thomas. If you take the offer that Mr. Adams presented you with that will cause a great loss of jobs. I am ready to offer you exactly the same deal, the only difference is that you'll keep hold of your workers."

Mr. Thomas leaned back in his chair, tired of saying no. There were only so many times a person could give the same answer before starting to loose their cool, and he was getting rather close. "Mr. Wayne, I -."

A knock on the door interrupted him and a young woman entered, looking rather apologetic. "Hello, I'm sorry to interrupt, Mr. Wayne – but you have a call, and it's rather urgent."

"I'm in the middle of a meeting, Sarah."

"I think you should take this call, Mr. Wayne, I really think that you should take this call." His secretary looked pale as she spoke, lifting a foot as if her heels were bothering her.

Bruce argued no more, lifting the phone and pressing it to his ear. "This is Bruce Wayne speaking."

"Mr. Wayne." There was a pause, an unfamiliar voice. "I'm not sure how to say this."

"Who is this?"

Sarah has her hands to her mouth, looking rather close to tears. This made the billionaire worry a bit more about who ever might be on the phone. He glared.

"It's the police, this is Detective Harlem speaking. I'm sorry to interrupt you at work – but … there has been some trouble. We're at your son's high school; we got a call saying that a group of armed men had come in. They're gone now – nobody was hurt, and they didn't find your boy."

"God, h-he was at home sick today."

"We're at your house right now, Mr. Wayne." A long pause. "And he's not here."

Bruce dropped the phone.

* * *

The whole drive home Bruce sped, drove dangerously, and felt like he was crawling. It took only a few minutes to get to the Manor, and by which time there were a group of cop cars – and men outside waiting.

"Where's Alfred?" Bruce demanded, slamming his car door and walking over to the man he assumed was Detective Harlem. "What happened?!"

"You hung up before I could say anything more, Mr. Wayne." The detective motioned to a cop nearby and then turned back to Bruce. "He was found in the house, he's been murdered Mr. Wayne. We're still searching the house – but it doesn't look like your boy is in there. We found, what we assume to be his room. His bed is unmade, he's not there."

Bruce pushed past and entered the house, finding it hard to breath. He couldn't believe what he had just been told – he just _couldn't_. As if he hadn't suffered enough – as if things weren't bad enough. How could this happen to him?! He made his way up to Tim's room, followed by the detective. The boy's room was empty, it's usual mess. "Where was Alfred found?" _Be strong_.

"I can show you … if you'd like. The ambulance took the … took him away so he could be examined." Harlem said. "He was shot – in the head. It was a painless death."

They came to the sitting room, and there was the outline on the floor. Everything was so wrong here, why was this happening?

"DETECTIVE HARLEM!" A cop ran inside the house. "We found the boy! We found him! He was in the garage!"

Bruce rushed outside, entering the garage and moving to where two cops were talking to startled looking Timothy. The man rushed to the teenager, taking him by the shoulders and looking at him in a panic. "Are you alright? Are you ok? Did you get hurt!" He was checking the boy's arms, as if to find some great wound, but there was nothing.

"Bruce – I'm fine, what are you – _I'm fine_!" Tim jerked away, making a face. "What's going on?"

"What were you doing in the garage?" The man demanded, taking Tim by the shoulders again, his grasp tight.

"I-I feel asleep out here, Bruce – you're _hurting_ me."

The man started at the boy and then leaned against a car, in shock – a hand covering his mouth, taking a deep breath. "You fell asleep?"

The teenager looked at the cops surrounding him. "Yeah."

"You scared me." Bruce said.

The boy looked completely confused, startled by what was being said to him.

"Timothy – or do you go by Tim?" Detective Harlem was trying to be personable, but it wasn't very welcome.

"It doesn't matter."

"Well, Tim, why weren't you at your school today?"

Bruce turned on the man, not liking his tone. "I told you, he was _sick_! You're a detective – go figure out what has happened, go figure out who did this!"

"That's what I'm trying to do here, Mr. Wayne – I'll need to ask you and your son a few questions to help me understand everything better though."

"What's wrong?" Tim questioned in a soft voice. "What's going on?"

"Timothy … why were you in the garage?" Bruce placed a hand on the boy's shoulders again – looking into his eyes and wanting an answer. "When did you come out here?"

"I-I dunno, around 3 or 4, it was after I woke up. I couldn't find Alfred. I was bored – so I went out here to see if maybe he had gone out to get groceries or something." The boy paused, blinking. "He wasn't here, I saw D-Dick's old car so I got in it, you know, and I feel asleep."

"We found him in this car." A policeman stated.

It was Dick's car alright. Bruce took in a deep breath. "Alfred's dead, Tim. He was found in the Sitting Room. Some men went to your school today, trying to find you – and." He didn't go on.

"That can't be right though – I walked through that room to get out here, he wasn't there!" Tim was turning white. "That can't be true."

"Mr. Wayne – is there anyone else that someone might try to get that is close to you. We're going to have to get you and your boy to a safe zone, so if there is anyone else that these people might try to hurt – you should tell us now."

Bruce kept looking at Tim as he thought. Barbara – no, even though she was close to him they made sure to keep far apart during the day. Nobody would know about her. "My fiancé – Lisa Troy."

* * *

"Bruce!" Lisa went into his arms, hugging the man she loved tightly, scared. The police had told her what had happened, and then told her to pack a suitcase, because there was a possibility her life was in danger. And so she had been taken away, to Wayne Manor. There were a few policemen stationed outside, nothing more. The original plan had been to move Bruce into the city, somewhere secret, but he had refused. So, here they were. "Are you alright? Are you ok?"

"I'm fine." He answered. "Alfred's dead, Lisa."

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry." She had tears as she spoke. "How is Timothy?"

"He's fine – he's upstairs getting ready for bed – it's been a long day." The man sounded tired. "The police are afraid that someone out there is mad at me, and they're looking into causes for Dick's death again."

The woman said nothing.

"You'll be staying here too?" The man questioned.

"They offered to take me elsewhere, but I said I'd rather be with you now." She touched his face, looking worried. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"I'm just tired."

"Then why don't we go to bed?" She suggested.

* * *

Tim was brushing his teeth when Bruce entered his room – without knocking, typical. The boy gave him a look then spit out the foam and took a drink. He wasn't mad at the moment, not really, more just _hurt_. Alfred had died, Alfred was dead – and now Bruce was letting Lisa live with them. Well, _whatever_ Bruce did to make himself feel better, Tim decided he didn't care. But Alfred was _dead_.

"I – uh – how are you doing?" It was a strange question, as if the whole last few weeks since Dick's death never happened, like they were good friends.

The teenager decided not to say anything, afraid he might do something dumb, like cry. He missed Alfred so much. His body started to tremble as he walked past Bruce towards his bed, pulling back the covers – but doing nothing more. He just looked at his mentor, glaring.

"Tim … how about you just _talk _to me. We said we'd talk tonight, didn't we? Alfred wanted us to talk tonight." The man paced over to the bed, taking a seat on the opposite end and looking at the boy standing. "Tim?"

"I don't want to talk to you." Tim answered, jerking the covers back up and turning to leave the room, slamming the door behind him. He paced down the hall, not sure what he was doing. He headed downstairs, and stopped dead in his tracks as Lisa was there, sitting on a chair, flipping through a magazine, dressed in a robe. The boy looked at her momentarily, then turned right back and started back up the stairs where he came face to face with Bruce.

"Maybe you're tired." Bruce said slowly. "We can talk later. You should head to bed."

"No." The boy spat, turning around once more and walking past Lisa and out of the room. He came to the entrance hall and opened the front door, taking a step outside and plopping down on the steps.

"You should probably be inside, kiddo." A cop to his left said, smoking a cigarette. "Don't think it's very safe for you to be out of your house."

"You got one of those I could have?" Tim questioned, glaring at the man, feeling rather dumb in his bare feet and flannel pajama pants. "It's been a rough night."

There was a pause and the cop looked around. He took out a carton and shook it, handing one to Tim with a shrug. "I can understand that." He tossed his lighter.

"Thanks." The boy lit up and lowered himself back into the old habit he had let go … seemed like forever. When he had come to live at Wayne Manor, well, smoking wasn't something anyone approved of – plus it hurt his Robin activity. So, why not smoke now? It wasn't like Alfred was going to say something, or he'd be going out on the city any time soon.

The door opened and Bruce stepped out onto the steps, arms crossed as he looked down at Tim. "You know you shouldn't be out here."

"I've got a cop right next to me, what's going to happen?" Tim answered, taking the cigarette from his mouth and looking at his mentor. "It's not like I'm helpless either."

"You're smoking."

"Yeah, that'd be what I'm doing."

The guard shifted his weight in an awkward manner, blushing a little as he pretended to be on the lookout for something – he looked rather intense.

"Well, champ, why don't you put that out and get inside – you're not supposed to be out here, helpless or not." Bruce wondered how dumb he might be sounding. He didn't want to do this, he wanted to turn and let Alfred handle it – but Alfred wasn't here. He was going to have to deal with the teenager by himself, and Tim hated him. What would Alfred do? Well, probably the same thing Bruce was doing, Tim just _liked _Alfred better. "Inside, Tim."

The boy took another inhale from his cigarette and then flicked the cigarette and got to his feet, nodding at the cop. "See you around."

_To Be Continued …_


	7. Can't Feel Anything at All

**Authors Note: **Heh! New chapter, amazing thing – this is. I'm getting faster during the school year. Dread those breaks though, I won't write at all, I can foresee it. Boo! Anyhow, this chapter is thanks to about an hour of downloading Jars of Clay songs – especially the one quoted from their new CD. Some songs just do that, you know?

I woke up from a dream about an empty funeral, but it's better than a party full of people I don't really know. So _carry_ _me_, I'm just a dead man - lying on the carpet, can't find a heartbeat. Make me _breathe_. I wanna' be a new man, tired of the old one – out with the old plan. Can you find a pulse inside of me? _Any_ pulse? Getting worse? _Any_ pulse? Getting _worse_? Inside of me, can you find a beat? Carry me. I'm just a dead man - lying on the carpet, can't find a heartbeat.

_Jars of Clay _**Dead Man (Carry Me)**

_**In My Arms Again**_

**By: The BatThing**

**For: Ariel (Thanks for Everything)**

**Chapter Seven: **

Tim didn't do much for the next few days, other than dwell on his hatred for Lisa and Bruce as a pair. The viewing, visits, and funeral seemed to slow things down in one way and speed them up in another. There wasn't much to be said or done between anyone, other than the usual condolences the teenager had heard just a few weeks prior when Dick had died. True, the people seemed a bit more real this time – after all, loosing two family members within a month merited some sort of pity party permit. They kept saying the same thing – _I'm so sorry – I can't imagine_. There was the occasional woman that would tell him _it's ok to shed a few tears at a time like this_. And then there was the occasional individual who seemed doubtful that Tim cared at all for the butler.

The boy didn't care though, not that much. He'd get that look over as they decided what to say to him, and he didn't care. Whatever they said, it wasn't going to change anything. Alfred and Dick were dead, Lisa and Bruce were in love, Barbara was depressed, and Gotham was still up and running.

Considering all that had happened, Alfred having been murdered and all – the funeral was closed and very tight. Few people _really _knew Alfred anyhow, so it wasn't like feelings were hurt. There was the occasional English relative that seemed to be deeply pained, and Tim felt guilty with them around.

"How are you holding up?" A quiet voice questioned with concern.

Tim lifted his head slightly, looking up and expecting a stranger. He hadn't been at the Manor _that _long and hardly knew any of Bruce's friends. Though, Leslie he knew. Everybody knew Leslie; it was a rule of thumb at Wayne Manor. Tim forced a strained smile that didn't even appear. "I'm fine – how about you?" A fair question considering Alfred and Leslie always had that … thing going on. It was nothing more than that, but there was something that had always been there … obviously so.

"Oh, you know, cried out of tears at the moment – give me a few hours." She sighed and sat up straight, smoothing her hands across her shoulder as if it ached. "I'm sure you know."

"Yeah."

"Well, could you do me a favor?" Her voice swayed slightly. "Tell Bruce that I had to head out, but if he needs anything to just give me a call. Even if he doesn't anything, I'd like for him to call me."

Tim paused for a moment at this. He and Bruce weren't _really_ in the talking stages, but what could he say? No refusals here. "Yeah, sure." He paused and then nodded. "Bye."

The elder woman got up and gave Tim a small kiss on the top of his head. "You be strong now." And then she was gone, making her way through the scattered bodies in the room and away to the privacy of her car, the comfort of her car. The boy watched in silence, wishing he could do the same … just leave. Glancing around he saw Lisa talking with Barbara in a hushed tone, both looked ill – but Barbara simply looked _gone_.

She was holding herself oddly, no pride and confidence like before, nothing smug about the way she looked. Her hair was done, her make-up was done, her dress was new, but she looked the furthest thing from being ready to be attending a social event. Barbara turned and caught Tim's eye and looked away without a second to spare.

Perfectly normal now.

She never – _ever_ – spoke with Tim.

The boy turned away also and got to his feet, wobbling slightly and then caught sight of large figure walking towards him. For a moment he froze, lowering his head without hesitation, thinking it was Bruce.

"How are you doing?"

The boy looked up and found Clark staring at him through those reporter glasses, smiling a kind but distant smile. The kind of smile expected at a funeral where you knew people were hurting, even if you didn't really know the person who died, you smiled the sad smile. Clark Kent smiled it.

He spoke again, not giving Tim much of an opportunity to answer his original question. "I see Lauren had to leave, she and Alfred were close – huh?"

"Lauren?" Tim looked confused. "Leslie?"

"I'm sorry – Leslie. I'm afraid I don't really know names like I should." The Man of Steel gave Tim the same smile. "I spoke to Bruce, he seems to be bearing the burden well – though, that's probably a good sign that things aren't going well at all. The more normal he seems, the worse the problem really is, huh?"

Tim closed his mouth and shrugged an uncaring shrug. "Thanks for coming all the way down."

"Of course … anytime."

There was an awkward silence in which Clark shifted his weight.

"You know, if you need anything, or just want to get away – maybe you should give me a call. You could come stay down at Metropolis and hang out with me for a few days. I'm not _that _interesting, but a change might be good." It was a nice suggestion, especially considering the source.

The teenager gave a nod. "Bruce doesn't let me do much nowadays, I wouldn't count on it." He sounded a bit bitter, but it was more of a fact then a complaint.

Clark nodded right back. "I'll bet if I talked with him then he might consider, after all, it's not like you'll be with an incompetent stranger. Isn't that right Bruce?"

Tim didn't look up at the name of his guardian, gathering that Clark was telling the truth. He didn't much care to meet Bruce's eyes at the moment.

"Excuse me?" Bruce questioned, obviously having just walked by.

"We were talking about Tim coming up to stay with me – what do you think? It's not like he'd be in danger, I do take a bit of pride that I can take care of myself and others."

Tim tried to smile at the joke. "You can take more than just a bit of pride … you're the only one who seems to be able to take care of your things … or even _care _about them. Everyone else seems to be having trouble." Ok, _that_ statement was bitter. Tim had pretty much called Superman better than Batman flat out, and he probably shouldn't have. He kept staring at the ground as a long silence followed.

"Well, that's not true." Clark started, sounded a bit awkward.

"I need to talk with Barbara, excuse me." Bruce said in the same tone as ever before, like nothing had happened and nothing had been said. He walked away, leaving the two once more.

"…I take it you and Bruce aren't getting along." Clark said slowly. "Come with me, Tim, we should talk."

The boy looked up, glaring at the man. "If you're thinking of giving me advice, or telling me to smarten up, or that I'm being _too **hard**_ on _Bruce_, then just _fuck off_ Clark. I don't give a _shit_ what _you think_." Tim said angrily, not caring that there were others around him. Right now wasn't really the moment he wanted to be taken aside and reprimanded like a child. He was going to put up a fight with anyone who tried to treat him like he was just a little kid pouting and making a big deal out of nothing.

"I just want to talk with you is all, no advice if that's what you want, but I want to tell you something. … If you'll allow me."

Tim slowly nodded, starting to look up finally, seeing that the man was staring right down at him. He didn't like that. "Well?"

"Let's go outside."

The two made their way through the crowd, past Bruce who acted like he didn't see them, past Barbara who nodded at Clark but nothing more, and finally past Lisa who gave Tim a small wave like she and he were friends. The boy simple ignored her. When they came outside the large man took a seat on the cold stone steps and watched at the fifteen year old sat a few feet away from him.

"I just wanted to get out of all of that … funerals have never been a strong point with me. Simply being around people who are hurting like that … it's not a pleasant thing." He looked at Tim, and seemed to be embarrassed. "I know you're hurting too, but I just want to talk to you about Dick."

Tim wasn't looking at the man speaking, rather into the distance. It was cold out, grey all around – the perfect weather for a funeral. The sun was starting to set in the autumn distance, casting a new wave of chill.

"It's just that I've known Dick since he was little, since he came to live with Bruce. It was always _really _easy for him and I to get along – he sort of idolized Superman, so that helped the relationship." There was a pause and the man clicked his tongue. "I don't think Bruce much liked me because of that, you know? That's beside the point though … I just wanted to say that Dick use to always come to me when he had troubles at home, that was until you came around. He still would call every now and then, we'd talk – but when you made your appearance he found someone he trusted even more than me to talk to about what troubled him. I'm sure you know this, but he thought very highly of you, Tim."

"We were in the same boat is all." The boy whispered.

"I know. Bruce isn't exactly the easiest person to get along with. I always get a bit depressed when I think I might be his best friend, you know?" The Man of Steel smiled at this. "Not that I give myself that sort of honor, but sometimes … when he talks with me in the League, I think I might be. It's always a bit depressing considering we're not close at all."

"Alfred was his best friend."

"I meant besides family."

Tim shrugged. "Then you're right … probably you."

"Well." Clark patted Tim on the knee as he got to his feet. "The point of this is that if you want to talk, then please _talk_. Dick trusted me, and I know you trusted Dick, so it might help to hear that. And if I may give one slight sliver of advice?"

The boy looked up and then away, shrugging his shoulders. "I don't care."

"If you really want to hurt Bruce then you figured out how." Clark paused. "What you think of him means more to him then you know. He might not show it often enough, but he thinks highly of you too." The man sighed. "I should be going."

Tim watched him walk down the steps slowly. He considered saying something in return to what he had been told, but nothing came to mind that wasn't rude. What Clark said pissed the boy off slightly simply because it hurt his pride. Perhaps he was becoming more like Bruce then he knew. The boy didn't like that idea _at all_.

And in a flash Clark was gone.

Blink of an eye.

Superman alright.

Tim sat outside despite the cold and despite his lack of company. He wasn't sure how long it was, people would walk out occasionally, giving him a look and a sympathetic smile and leave. It wasn't until Barbara came out that he realized he was sitting there looking somewhat dumb.

She didn't say anything at first, but her father stopped and started to give Tim his condolences. The young woman stood looking at the distance for a moment, and slowly forced herself to turn to the teenager. She studied him for a moment and then it started.

She began to cry.

Barbara collapsed besides Tim, drawing her arms around him and leaning over him, putting her head on his shoulder and crying. "_Oh Timmy, I'm so soh-sorry_!"

Commissioner Gordon gave a kind smile, understanding completely the situation. He started to walk away from the two, giving them space and time that they probably needed.

Tim didn't move as she cried on him, holding him tight. He watched as she slowly pulled away, prying herself off of him in an awkward manner. "It's ok, Barb." He told her.

"It's just y-you remind me of Dick so much." She wiped her eyes, getting mascara on her hands and smearing it across her face all the more. "I can't stand the pain at t--times. It just hurts so much I can't _stand _it."

"I know. It's ok."

"I don't mean to ignore, I just --." And she started to cry again, hugging the teenager all over again, repeating the same thing over. "_And now Alfred is dead_!"

It was hard not to return the hug and cry with her, but Tim didn't. He sat with her for close to half an hour, people passing by, leaving. Gordon sat in the car, watching occasionally as he waited. Finally she pulled away and nodded.

"I should go home. I'm making a fool of myself and ruining my dress. Crying doesn't bring anybody back, I'm being silly. A silly girl." She got to her feet, fumbling slightly on her heels. Giving Tim a heartbreaking look she turned and walked away, going to her father who got out of the car and helped her to the other side, obviously worried.

"Oh, there you are Tim, I was worried for a moment." Lisa's voice echoed from behind.

The boy turned and looked up with tired eyes at the woman. He lowered his head, taking in a deep breath and did his best to act mature with her now. Chancing a glance at the car leaving carrying away Barb, he stood and went into the house, past Lisa who said nothing.

_To Be Continued …_

**Caerula: **LOL, I did notice that mistake _before _I even posted the chapter, that's how lazy I am. I was like: I should correct this. I thought about it for a moment, and then decided I couldn't really spell it off the top of my head, and posted anyhow. I'm _really_ lazy, and you caught it! Haha, thanks though – I really need to start caring more about grammar in these, I'm awful at English stuff. Thanks for the review, and I'm glad you enjoy this so much – I'd probably enjoy it more if I knew how to make Bruce and Tim talk without making it sound sappy, you know? I love drama, but I hate having _talks _between Bruce and Dick or Tim. It's just awkward for me to write, lol. In _For Who You Are_ it took a lot for me to write the part where Tim confesses that he thinks Bruce is disappointed in him and Bruce says he's not … chapter 13 I think. Anyhow, the point is I'm really bad at sappy stuff. Thanks for the words!

**Litte Red Ravenhood: **Thank you so much for the words! Yeah, your guess is as good as mine as to what's going on … I probably shouldn't admit to that. I'm one of those writers whose like: _I hope this all makes sense in the end_. Though I might steal your idea, haha, you'll be reading and be like: _I recognize this ending_. No, I wouldn't do that without asking, lol, but I'm seriously starting to think more and more on a good ending now that it's approaching the time to solve problems in the fanfic. I'll figure it out, but your review was wonderful to read! Thanks so much for reviewing and reading … reading and reviewing. I'm so happy people like it! And if you're a titan fan then I'm even more so. I don't know why, but Teen Titan fans always make me feel like I'm writing even better. Even if you're not, it means a lot to get the review. Thanks!

**Trunksblue: **What can I say? I'm part evil? LOL. I actually was making the scene in the garage a suicide scene. Tim was going to attempt to kill himself … and then it didn't happen. So when you got the vibe, you were right. I reread this after I posted and was like: _I forgot he had the car running! _So it's like, a real possibility … really, really. Yeah, Alfred was a surprise to me too. I was like: _How can I make this chapter interesting? Ah, I'll kill Alfred!_ That's how he died, his death wasn't planned … ahh! But yeah, it makes for good drama – eh? Thanks for the review, seeing as you're my friend your opinion amounts to a little something, lol. Just kidding, it means a lot. Thanks so much, and keep drawing … I _need_ to go to deviantart!

**Candleblaise: **You are _too_ nice to me. I know you always review, and I'm always like: _Yeah! It's Blaise!_ You're one of those friend reviewers, where you aren't a reviewer, you're like my government or something. That makes no sense, but I just love people who keep reading. But seriously, you're _too _nice to me, lol. Your reviews are always great to read, it's been like two years and you keep reviewing. There should be an award for you, lol. Thanks so much – and I hope you enjoy. If not simply say so, be like: _this is wrong_. Haha. Thanks so much, again!

**Trecebo: **Haha! Alfred was pretty awesome, wasn't he? What am I saying? He _was _awesome … is awesome. If there was no Alfred there would be no Batman or Robin or Batgirl or readers. We'd all be hating Batman, 'cause he'd be evil and hateful, and Robin would probably be like: _I'm gone_. It's true. I found out the other day that Alfred wasn't originally with Batman. He didn't come till _after _Robin in the comics. I was like: _That's weird. _Oh well, I'm just glad he came in the 50's when he did – haha! Thanks for the review!!


	8. Let Nothing You Dismay

**Authors Note: **Yeah, I did it – and don't freak out on me yet. I haven't screwed up this story thus far, so I hope I won't screw it up now, lol. The next chapter should be … happier … and sadder. You'll have to read to find out I suppose. What happens next is a secret, aka, poorly planned. _Mwah_!

"God rest ye merry gentlemen, let nothing you dismay, remember Christ our savior was born on Christmas Day; to save us all from Satan's power when we had gone astray. Oh, tidings of comfort and joy, comfort and joy, comfort and joy. Oh, tidings of comfort and joy."

_God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen _**MercyMe**

_**In My Arms Again**_

**By:** The BatThing

**For: **Ariel (Thanks for Everything!)

**Chapter Eight: **Let Nothing You Dismay

Tim kicked off his shoes and tugged at the tie around his neck, pulling it off with a breath of relief. He was thankful the day was done. Thankful that now perhaps he could get some _real _work done. Alfred and Dick had been murdered and Bruce was too in love to care about the matter, so that simply meant one thing.

Robin would be making an appearance again.

The boy knew better than to think he could trick his guardian easily, it would take a lot of careful planning – and a lot risks. He knew that Bruce always kept a tracer on his Robin costume, Dick had told him a long time ago that the billionaire had this weird obsession with that. Even as Nightwing, Dick would complain of finding tracers placed on his costume. Their mentor always played it smooth as if he were clueless, but Dick swore up and down that it was Bruce's doing.

Well, that was all very well and good then – but this was now. Tracers would equal trouble. Bruce could have a clear listing and map of what he had done and who he had seen. It wasn't something that Tim needed right now, the tracer would _have_ to go before anything could actually happen.

Then there came the slight problem of Bruce wandering around and discovering that Tim had snuck out. The teenager figured that his mentor probably didn't do that much checking up on him, but who was to really know? And what if Batman discovered that the costume was missing? Robin would be extinct, that was for sure.

"How are you doing?"

The boy spun around, arms going up at the surprise of having something enter his room without his knowing it. His eyes were small when he discovered it was Lisa, looking rather bashful and innocent. "What do you want?"

"Just to check to make sure you're ok. You went upstairs without a word and … Bruce is being _awful_ quiet. I wasn't sure if you and him maybe … well." She took in a deep breath and smiled a nice smile. "I don't want you to hate me, Tim, I don't. Though, that's not my main concern."

Perhaps the boy was supposed to reply to that? There was a drawn out silence that followed her words, but the boy did nothing but stare at her.

"My main concern is that you'll hate _Bruce _because of _me_. I don't – I don't want that to happen. You two are family, and nothing should break that apart. If I am then I really think that, I mean – I really would _like_ to know so I could do something about it. Bruce says that I shouldn't worry about it, but I do. I don't want you to hate your father because I love him." She stepped forward, reaching out a hand but only touching the air. "If you want me to go then I will."

"You're asking me to tell you what _I_ want?" Tim growled angrily, moving away from the woman. He didn't like that one bit, not at all. It wasn't a matter of what he wanted. It was a matter of … of what Bruce wanted. Clearly the billionaire wanted Lisa in his life, even if that meant that Tim would be out of it. "I want you to do what Bruce wants, nothing more and nothing less. I don't care about you."

She was silent, obviously startled by the harshness of the answer.

"Now if you don't mind I'm getting dressed."

"Well – ok. Ok." She turned and paused, stopping to look at Tim, and shook her head. "You hate me, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Ok, just making sure." And she left, closing the door behind her.

He probably should have felt a little bad by her response, but he didn't. Not a bit. There was something to deal with and it didn't include making Lisa feel like she belonged. That wasn't even on his list of things to do, and never _would_ be. Flopping down on his bed, Tim cupped his chin and stared around his room, realizing what a rich kid he was. At least he could claim that he wasn't spoiled … right? _Right_. _There isn't any way in hell that I'll **ever **be a spoiled rich kid. I'd rather die then be like … like Bruce_.

* * *

Lisa and Bruce fought that night, Tim could hear them below – yelling occasionally, saying things they probably didn't mean. The teenager had a hard time sleeping with such a thing happened below, partially from the noise but mostly from the simple fact that they were arguing about _him_ and what he had said. The knowledge that Bruce's fiancée might leave because Tim had driven her away … the boy was frightened of what might happen to _him_. Bruce wouldn't be happy, that much was for sure. 

A door slammed, and there was a long silence. Tim tossed off the covers and crept over to the window, opening it and climbing out onto the roof. He was cold, especially considering the lack of footwear, but he didn't let that derive his mission.

"I _can't do it_." Lisa whispered from down below, obviously crying. At first there was a lot of crying, but then they hushed down – just the occasional gasp for air and sniff of the nose.

"Ma'am ...?" The cop outside was obviously there, finding his position suddenly awkward. "It's cold out, ma'am – perhaps you should get inside. It _is _dangerous for you to be out here … like this. Ma'am -- are you alright?"

Lisa kept crying, saying something Tim didn't understand – it was covered up by a runny nose and tears. And then the door opened.

"Lisa?" It was Bruce, and he sounded distant.

"_I can't leave you_!" She about shrieked as she started crying all over again. Tim sat above, hugging his knees and listening for a second or two before turning back inside. It was clear that she wasn't going anywhere. Even if she knew Tim hated her, she wasn't going to be leaving anytime soon. Even if Bruce had said it was for the best, he had obviously been worn down to the core, and couldn't stand the thought of loosing her too.

The weeks passed by and Tim did what he could to learn a pattern in which Bruce might be using, but there really wasn't one. He seemed to be going out as the Dark Knight whenever he felt like it – no matter the circumstances. The police were working hard, trying to find Alfred's murder, but nothing came up. They even said that Dick's death was accidental, drunk driver – all that, same as before. The fact that Tim had someone trying to _kill_ him didn't change their mind. They swore up and down that all the facts they had for Dick's death pointed to a simple car wreck caused by somebody who was under the influence. Plain and simple.

_Yeah right_.

Snow was falling now, and Tim was no happier than before. If you were to look outside you might be cheered to see a light white blanket of snow, accompanied by fluttering flakes falling from the sky. Not Timothy Drake though, he hadn't done much but nothing since Alfred's death, and it was **_Christmas_** _Eve_. This got his attention simply because he realized what it would be like to spend Christmas at Wayne Manor _this _year.

Horrible.

Lisa and Bruce were more in love then ever it seemed. She served as a diversion for Bruce's pain. The man seemed more confident and kinder then ever before, even more … _loving_. He and Tim rarely spoke, but when they did Bruce was understanding – and acted like the boy and he were close, like a real family or something. It was as if happiness had eaten away at him and ruined _everything_.

"I need to figure things out." Tim whispered to himself, breathing warm air onto his hands as he sat by the window, staring at the snow. "I need to just _do_ it. I need to just go."

Robin seemed like forever away, Alfred and Dick seemed like forever away. He had to find the cause of their deaths before it was too late, before he let the clues get too old, impossible to understand.

_What am I doing sitting here? Scared Bruce will find me if I go out? _"What's to fear?" _What more can he do to me? _"Nothing. He already did everything he could to me."

There was a sudden burst of laughter from Lisa from outside, and Tim lifted his head to find Bruce and her walking down the lane. The woman at his side was smiling so wonderfully, it was easy to see why Bruce liked her so much. Even if he never _really _smiled back, or laughed, or looked happy – he clearly was. It wasn't anybody's fault, but still Tim blamed him for it.

Being happy seemed like such a luxury now.

The boy got to his feet, nodding to himself, nodding to assure himself that what he was about to do would be fine. There was nothing to fear anymore, no matter what happened, it couldn't get worse than it was now.

_Nothing could be worse then this_.

* * *

"Have you seen Timothy?" 

Lisa lifted her head from the book. She had been quite comfortable, snuggled in a warm Christmas red sweatshirt by the fireside. The tree was right in view, its ornaments sparkling from their reflections of the fire across the room. "Well – at dinner, same as you." She looked confused, lowering _Pride and Prejudice _to her lap. "Are you ok, Bruce? You look _really_ pale."

"I -- I can't seem to find him." He shook his head. "Did he seem upset tonight?"

"Bruce … he's always upset. No more than usual tonight ... Now, how long has he been missing? You know this has happened before, you freak out before you give him time to even show up. He's probably just wandering in the house, he'll be around – give it half an hour before you freak out, ok? Goodness, sometimes I wonder about you." She shook her head at the man, and with good reason. Sure, he had lost a son already, but the way he worried about Tim was almost _crazy_. She often wondered if the boy even knew, and wished he did. It might help ease things if the teenager realized that Bruce cared as much as he did.

"I just checked his room and he wasn't there." Bruce said, and gave her a glare. "I don't _freak out_. I just know that Tim's an idiot teenager. He might do something dumb."

"Like _what_? He doesn't do anything but sit in his room all day long and do _nothing_. Occasionally he'll be walking around the house, but other than that." She paused, shaking her head. "I think this might be a good time to talk about him."

Bruce went on the defense straight away. "There's nothing to talk about. He's _my _responsibility, not _yours_. What goes on between him and I is none of your business."

She was quiet for a moment and then nodded, picking her book back up. "You're right, I'm sorry to have interfered."

"You're mad at me?"

"No, just think you're being an idiot."

Bruce didn't like that answer. "You're mad at me."

"Bruce – you have a teenager who is _obviously_ depressed. He eats and sleeps, sleeps and eats – nothing more and nothing less. He rarely talks to _us_, and never talks to anyone else for all we know. He's only ever in the house. You can't tell me that you're not _worried _about his current state." She snapped her book shut and shook her head. "You should do something about him before its _too_ late and he can't be reached. Before his anger has totally blocked you out."

There was another drawn out silence in which the billionaire standing decided to speak without giving it much thought. He was mad, and he spoke rashly. "He's mad at me because _you're_ here."

"…I know. I _know_. And I should go. I've – I've …" She got to her feet, turning red at his words directed towards her. She knew better than to stick around after such a thing had been said. It wasn't like she hadn't known she was the cause for the division between the two, but Bruce had assured her that he could mend the problem … and Bruce had been so _sad_. "I need to leave."

"Lis – I shouldn't have said that, I didn't mean -."

"No, you're right."

"Lisa, I was mad, and I didn't think. I was being an _idiot _about the whole ordeal, remember – me an idiot?"

She shook her head, moving past him towards the stairs. "I think … I – I think that before you can commit to me you need to be able to save your own child. How can _anything_ work out between _us_ if this is always in the way? If Tim were to get worse, or do something drastic, then we'd blame ourselves, you know it."

"He's not suicidal."

"Maybe, but you are … _sure as hell **loosing** him_."

* * *

Tim didn't use his costume – too easy for Bruce to be smart and look in the cave. No, by just going out in street clothes with his mask in his back pocket he was able to get a fair head start. The Manor was big. Bruce couldn't just freak out and assume he went as Robin. No, he'd check for the costume, see it was there, and assume Tim was still home. Well, at least for a _few_ hours, hopefully enough that the boy could dig a few things up. 

And besides, this way Bruce couldn't blame him for going against any rules. _He _wasn't Robin. He was Tim Drake, taking a walk to clear the mind - haha. He _had_ taken a batbike though, how else was he supposed to get around? Walk?

Oh, that'd look smooth. Spend the first five hours just walking to where he wanted to go.

The option of taking a normal bike, from the garage – it wasn't an option. The Manor was secure almost all over. Someone would notice him taking a bike out for a joy ride. They weren't deaf idiots, even though Tim sometimes wished they were. No, Bruce might have found a missing batcycle and he might have a tracer on it – Tim wasn't sure, all he could do was cross his fingers and hope neither were true.

Now, just to hit up a few of the usual suspects – take it one at a time, slowly. A case like this had an old lead, he'd need to get the files from the police and then take it from there.

Parking his bike a few streets down, the boy got off. He pulled the helmet away and reached for the mask in his back pocket. He felt a bit dumb in normal clothing. Oh well, business was business.

"Kiddy-kiddy-kiddy."

Tim froze at the voice and turned slowly, eyes getting small at the sight of a few men approaching him. "What do _you _guys want?"

"Same thing we wanted before." One said calmly. "You're rather dumb, Timmy Drake, dumb – dumb – dumb – dumb."

"Dumb." Another echoed, nodding. "_Dead_."

_Looks like I didn't have to search very far. _Tim thought to himself. He felt color reach his cheeks at the simple fact that he _was _dumb. He was an idiot for leaving the Manor in his normal clothes. He _knew _he had people after him, people who wanted him dead – who knew why – but here he was.

Tim Drake, world's biggest moron. Thank you very much.

"I think we should talk." The leader said, waving a gun slightly, doing his best to intimidate the boy. "You're probably wondering what we want."

"You killed my brother – you killed _Alfred_." Tim growled, dropping the helmet to the ground. He felt his body tremble in anger. "Isn't that right?"

"No."

Tim must have looked confused, because they started to laugh at him.

"We killed the old man, sure – but don't know anything about your brother. Heard they got to him before we did. It sucks, drunk drivers on the road. Sorry about it though, my aunt died the same way – not pretty to deal with, hmm." He approached Tim slowly. "So, it's pretty obvious that we want you, though – you're very good at hiding, aren't you?"

"What do you want with me?"

"Someone doesn't like Bruce Wayne, Timothy Drake. Someone doesn't like him _at all_."

Tim blinked at the statement. "So you're going to kill me to get to Bruce? Is that it?"

He shook his head in reply to the question. "I don't kill children, I'm not _so _evil. I have a son a few years older than you, can't imagine killing any child. No, I'm not going to kill you."

"Then you're going to bring me to someone else to be killed?"

"No. I must say, you seem to be handling this very well. You're at gun point and you're doing _very_ well. What is your secret?" He moved closer, men approaching with him. "Bruce Wayne make you go to classes – incase something like this _did _happen? He must be expecting someone to get his kids."

The teenager didn't answer that. He just kept silent, wondering what they were planning to do if they weren't going to kill him. They _had _to be lying. He could identify any one of these idiots, so why … they _had _to be lying to him.

"If you'll just come with us … we'll make this simple and easy, you'll be home within a few hours, and everything can go back to normal." The leader whispered, suddenly snapping his fingers and drawing Tim's full attention.

…

Tim would have cried out, but he couldn't. He fell to the ground, hitting the cool cement alley, and wanting to breathe. Unsure what was happening he lifted his head slightly, only to drop it again, feeling the tears start from pain. And suddenly there was an awful smell, like something dying – something rotting away. He let the tears run as he felt something collecting around his fingertips – something warm and sticky.

"You think -- it'll -- die soon … feel bad."

"We can't -- be caught."

Tim closed his eyes, realizing this was it – he was _dying_. He was dying and, oh god, there wasn't anyone to hold his hand, not anyone to save him. No Bruce. _Oh god, Bruce – Bruce, come find me. Please, please – save me, find me, I swear I'll never – hurts so bad – never ever go against you._

_I'm so scared._

He let his hand move in the warm liquid, feeling his own blood and feeling the tears come down harder.

_Save me?_

And so Tim Drake died alone.

* * *

Bruce couldn't help what was happening. Lisa had left, and Tim was _still _missing. He wasn't angry, but he was irritable now. When that kid got home they would talk, they'd talk until things happened – till Tim _changed_. The boy _had _to change, because … because Bruce loved this woman. She made him so happy, and … and Tim was being selfish – right? Right. 

It was Christmas Even and he was home alone, as far as he could tell. Lisa had gone, taking a bit of the security with her – saying she would spend the holidays with her family this year. She said she'd call tomorrow, and they'd talk a bit.

_Where is that kid?_

Bruce had been worried at first, but now it was more just him upset. The Robin costume was still in the cave, so Tim had to be close by. After all, it had only been a few hours since he noticed the teenager wasn't in his room.

"TIM!"

_Nothing_.

Bruce frowned, feeling suddenly awful – sickly almost. He turned and walked towards the Batcave's entrance, deciding it wouldn't hurt to check once more.

_To be continued …_

**Trunksblue: **Hey! Yeah, people have a habit of smiling to those who are suffering, I don't know why - eases the awkwardness I suppose? lol, who knows. I actually didn't have him commit suicide 'cause of just that reason. I was writing it out, and then I was talking to my sister about it and she was like: That'd take a few years. And I was like: Hmm, you're right. Oh well, I'm glad I didn't do it. Now I get a new theme. Clarky is an awkward fellow, or well - he seems it. I suppose Superman can't really be too awkward, otherwise I might laugh at him - haha! I think Clark will be in this fanfiction a bit more, it seems like a cool idea.

**Candleblaise: **LOL, yeah - it'd be awesome if Lisa died. I like that I hate her too, but never really write her in a bad light. I honestly don't like her character at all, and I especially don't like that she and Bruce like each other. It's almost evil that they're in love, Batman doesn't fall in love. It'd just be wrong. I hope Dick and Alfred are alive too! LOLIRL, is it bad that I hope that too? I dunno, I dunno - we'll see where this goes. Thanks so much for always reviewing!

**Little Red Ravenhood: **What you see isn't what you get, eh? I'll do my best, but I have my bad writing moments ... I have them a lot. So if you suspect something and it happens be like: It's normal with her, lol. Yeah, most superheroes are pretty awesome. I must say, I'm a huge Batman fan - and a small DC fan, but Marvel and I don't get along. I'm just bias against it though, very evil of me. Where I come from everyone is a Marvel fan, so DC is like ... me and no one else. Haha. Teen Titans kick butt! Thanks for the review, and thoughts!

**Brightslights: **LOL, more is good - Tim is really cute, hopefully he'll get through this.

**FruitsBasketGirl911**: Hey! Thanks so much for the review. I'm glad you like this fanfiction - I'd say more, but I fear repeating myself. LOL, after sending possibly two messages to you, it'd be bad if I went over the same thing, lol. I hope I didn't send two, that'd be bad. Anyhow - thanks for the review!


	9. Till It's Gone

"Sometimes I wonder what it's like to be living life on the other side. Oh please, don't make me feel like I don't know what's out there – proof is written in the sky. Hey, would you listen to me now? It makes no difference if I wish upon a star. Oh, I believe. Yes – I believe. I know you're scared to let me know you. I know you got a heavy kind of soul. And I know it's harder to believe in love when you're feeling all alone. They're taking bets on who the lover of who your soul and heart are gonna' be. They're taking on all the things that get you down and out the moment you believe. Well, I believe. Yes -- I'm saying I believe in you."

_Worth it All _**Michael W. Smith**

_**In My Arms Again:**_

**By: **The BatThing

**For: **Ariel (Thanks for everything!)

**Chapter Nine: **Till it's Gone

Lisa smiled as her sister handed the steaming cup of tea towards her. The woman accepted, shaking her head at the warm object in her hands. "I'm sorry to intrude on you like this, I know I was planning to spend the Holidays with Bruce, but … it's gotten so bad, almost out of hand now." She sighed.

"You know, Lis, I _am_ your sister for a reason. You can talk to me about it." Lauren Troy took a seat beside her younger sister with a knowing look. "Did you and he fight?"

"Not really, it's his kid – Tim – the one I told you about."

"The depressed one who hates your guts and is a bit stuck-up?" Lauren questioned, leaning back and quirking an eyebrow. "Anybody who tries to break up a marriage is evil, even if they are just kids. …Don't tell me Wayne listened to the brat!"

"No, that's not it." Lisa answered, closing her eyes and taking a sip. "And Tim probably isn't that bad, I just … I just wish he would like me. Well, the kid seems -- suicidal. I told Bruce and he got all defensive, saying Tim wouldn't try anything like that, but I don't know. The kid seems so depressed. I can't even tell what he's thinking anymore. And … and 'Ren, _I've_ done it. If he hurts himself, or if he and Bruce never forgive each other, then _I'm_ to blame!"

"Oh hush, you left, you were _brave_. It's up to Bruce and the kid to work it out. There is nothing you can do. And besides, you tried to leave – you said that Wayne made it impossible almost. So it's not anyone's fault, and it's everyone's fault. Mine too, Tim's too, Bruce's, yours, everyone's." She took her sister's hand. "It'll be ok though, you'll see, sometimes rich kids are just a lot more spoiled then the others and don't like to share – especially their parents."

Lisa didn't say anything as she shed her tears, but nodded. "I'm not cut out to marry a billionaire, am I?"

"Oh, come on now." Lauren said with a laugh, hugging her sister, letting her have her cry and understanding.

After all, that's what siblings did.

* * *

Bruce found the Robin costume in place, just like he had thought. That meant Tim had to be in the house some where, otherwise the guards would have said something about him leaving. The man paused at the thought and turned, looking towards the garage area of the batcave and cursed under his breathe. _Tim took the bike!_

The man heaved himself towards the batcomputer, taking a seat at it and pulling up a small map of Gotham – he clicked on a small red light and the map zoomed in – showing the exact location of the tracer, and _Tim_. "What is he doing there?" The man considered waiting, till he saw the time on the tracer. The bike had been stable for the last hour, and in such an obvious place? That wasn't like Tim – especially if the teenager wasn't in costume. Why would he leave the bike there?

Only one way to find out.

The man didn't waste any time at all.

"_Robin_." Batman spoke in a soft voice, soft but harsh. He had arrived, by batmobile, at the location the computer had said – entered into the dark way. It was chilly out, chillier than should be, even if it was Christmas Eve. The snow was falling, reflecting the moon and making things a little less dark.

The man paused, feeling weak for no reason at all. He shook his head, feet crunching under the snow as he forced himself to walk down the alley. The Dark Knight couldn't help but feel it though. Something was horribly wrong, he was shaking – he was finding it hard to breathe, and he didn't want to go into the dark to find the bike.

Moving forward he did what he had to do, calling Robin's name softly until he entered the alley, surveying it fully. "Oh god." The man saw the bike, he saw the broken helmet lying on the ground, and he saw Tim's body.

The teenager was on the ground, surrounded in a mound of red snow – and the teenager _wasn't _moving.

"Oh god, oh god." Batman whispered to himself as he fell to his knees at the boy's side, taking a hand and searching for where the blood was coming from. His body shook so bad he was finding it hard to do anything but fumble about. "Timmy – Timmy, come on now – _Timmy_?" And then he saw it.

A hole, right in the child's neck.

A bullet hole.

"Oh god."

Tim was dead, nothing left by a body and some blood.

_A body and some blood. A body and some blood. A body and some blood. _The Dark Knight moved for the boy, carefully moving him over – as to see his face. _A body and some blood. _"Timmy?"

The boy's eyes weren't pleasantly closed; they were awkward, partially open. His face was covered in the blood – everything had _blood_. Tim's body was loose, cold -- no longer alive. There was nobody now, nobody left now.

_Nobody to hate me anymore_. He felt his insides turn and his stomach churn.

_I hate you, I fucking hate you more than the others ever did._ _You did this – you're a monster, you killed him!_

Batman pulled his cowl back, gasping for air as he awkwardly held Tim, cradling him with one arm. "I killed him."

_Drove him away – just like you drove Dick away. _

Bruce doubled over, getting sick, the realization of having lost Dick, Alfred, and now Tim – in just a few weeks. They were all gone. "_I_ _killed_ _them_." Never shedding tears, simply sitting as the blood smeared across his body, as Tim became colder and colder against his body, as the moon faded, until …

The Dark Knight rose up, lifting the child in his arms and walking towards the Batmobile. He didn't have a choice, he _had _to do it. _I can't live anymore … I can't do anything, I'm the monster. This is the only way. I have to go to him now._

Once he had the boy's body in the passenger's seat he turned and walked back to the bloody mess left on the ground. He took out a bottle from his utility belt and began to pour it out over the snow, making it impossible for anyone to identify the blood here. Then, he went back to the car -- knowing he only had one choice left.

* * *

Batgirl shivered in the cold weather, and wondering if now would be a good time to go back home and head to bed. It was Christmas Morning as of fifteen minutes ago, and she didn't like the idea of being in an ill mood for the holiday's festivities. No, tomorrow she had to be strong, because it would be Christmas with Dick Grayson in her life. 

Not that it should matter. It wasn't like Dick and she were in a _real _relationship. So many people had made sure to let her know that she and Richard _hadn't_ been officially dating. _I loved him though_. Batgirl put a hand to her mouth at the thought of the young man that had passed away. She was being selfish anyhow. There were other things to worry about – like Alfred, like Tim, like Bruce.

The Batman hadn't been out and about for a long time, and if he ever did come out it wasn't like he did a lot. He told her that the police were in Gotham for a reason, and he felt that he should release his grip on crime a little.

"_I'm not going to live forever, Barbara_."

_What a selfish thing to say_. The girl shook her head at the thought. _Oh well, at least Bruce was happy. Even if it is up to me to make sure Gotham didn't go under, I'll do it. Dick would want it._

And she was back to Dick, how typical. The girl slowly moved away from her spot, deciding that it would be best to head in for the night. It was early, but she figured one night would be ok, it _was _Christmas after all. She thought of visiting Tim and Bruce at the Manor tomorrow and nodded to herself at the idea. Yes, Tim could use a friend, even if she hurt when she saw him – that wouldn't stop her from trying to be there for him.

* * *

"How did you know?" Bruce's voice was gruff as he spoke into the small phone. "How did you know to call me?" There was a long pause in which nothing but the sound of Batplane humming could be heard. Then a small tisk and then the sound of the dial tone, nothing more. "_Shit_." 

Pulling his cowl back over his head he gritted his teeth, feeling numb as he steered the plane across the waters, wondering if this would even work. Time had given him the ability to think a bit about what he was doing, true, it was a rash thing – but what else could be done?

The computers started to beep as something flashed on the screen of a small computer. Coordinates, a small map – nothing more, but it was more than enough. It was all the Dark Knight needed for what he was doing, to get where he was going.

"So you know, do you?" Batman momentarily shut his eyes, pushing away any emotions he had. He took the phone back up, having another phone call to make – to someone he knew he could trust, even if everything in him was repulsed at the idea – he had no choice. After all, the Boy Scout was known to get things done.

* * *

She entered through her window, feeling a bit better as the warmth surrounded her. Outside it was so cold, and entering her room – her apartment, the familiarity of it always cheered her up slightly. Batgirl pulled off her cowl and slowly undressed, getting into her pajamas. "Sing choirs or angels, sing in _exaltation_, sing all you citizens of heaven above." 

She got into bed and nodded, trying to think positive, think optimistic. _Christmas, Christmas, Christmas – the most wonderful time of the year_. She frowned and flopped down, closing her eyes tight and shaking her head at the thought of Dick and Alfred's deaths, when the phone rang.

Sitting up with a start she reached over, taking it up and pushing her lips together. She lifted it up and coughed, trying to sound like she had just awoken. "Barbara Gordon here – may I ask who is speaking?"

"Barbara, it's Bruce, we have a problem." The man sounded soft, faint, but at the same time so much more fearful.

"What's wrong?" The girl got back to her feet, hurrying to her closet for her costume, wondering what ever might be the problem when it struck her. _Bruce sounds like he did before Dick had died, before he had came across Lisa._ "Bruce?"

"I need you to go to a crime scene, see what you can find for me. Tim was hurt … I'm brining him to someone who can help. I - there will be a lot of blood, Barb, make sure it's cleaned up for me – nothing to track us with. I did what I could, but I don't want any mistakes."

"Is he going to be ok?" The girl demanded, gripping the phone.

There was a pause and then a cough. "I'll save him. Now, Janeson Alley – right near-."

The girl shook her head, going to her knees and digging through her closet for the secret drawer where she hid her costume. "I know where it is, don't worry. You just make sure Timmy's going to be ok."

"I need to tell you something, Barb. I need to tell you that Dick … that Dick loved you. I know you probably already know that, but I just wanted you to know incase." Batman said slowly.

Barbara felt her body go numb at his words. "Why are you telling me this?"

"And you've done good -- all of you were exceptional. Take care of Gotham for me."

"Bruce – why are you-." She didn't finish, knowing he was gone – having hung up with nothing more than what he had said. It scared her, what he had said. She felt so confused, because Batman _never _talked like that. He was never so kind, and he _never ever_ discussed Dick and Barbara's relationship. At least never with _her_. "What's going on?"

* * *

"Sir, he's arrived." 

Ras Al Ghul lifted his head and gave a steady look to the servant that had spoken. Giving a slight nod, he signaled to let the guest inside and then lifted his head, finding Ubu standing cautiously.

The doors opened with an echo and there was total silence as Batman entered, carrying the body of a young teenage boy – Robin. It had come as a slight surprise, to find out that the Detective had lost almost everyone in just a matter of days. So the sudden arrival was no huge surprise.

"Detective."

Batman said nothing as he came to a stop before the man sitting there. He shook his head and held out the boy's body towards the man. "I know you can do it, I know you can bring him back."

"With the Lazarus Pit?" Ras questioned, getting up and approaching the man. "Detective, you know better than to presuppose that the powers of the Lazarus Pit can give this boy his life back. Its powers only work on the aging, the wounded – and those that are dead, but _still _have life in them."

The Dark Knight breathed heavily. "Check him – he has life in him yet, he _has _to have life in him yet. Where are your Lazarus pits?!"

"There will be consequences to this, you understand Detective. I cannot simply allow you to use something as valued as a Lazarus Pit and go without paying." The man touched Tim's face and nodded. "How very extraordinary, he still does have life in him."

"Then _do _it."

Ras lifted his head at the request and was silent, waiting for something.

Batman clenched his jaw in anger. "_Do you understand_?! _There is no time_!"

"Precisely, I am just in wonder why you come to this behavior. When this child awakens to find that you are dead and he is alone, do you think he will be thankful for what you have done for him, Detective? This immoral decision of yours strikes me as strange. The loss of those you loved has driven you mad." Ras lifted his shoulders. "Very well, if you wish it I will extend to you the use of a Lazarus Pit."

Batman nodded, his jaw moving in frustration, he didn't have the time to talk like this. He knew that what he was doing would have a bad outcome, but all in all it would be worth it. Tim could find a new life, and he would still have Barbara. Besides -- _I can't live with this pain_. _At least now Dick and Alfred can forgive me_.

* * *

Batgirl cupped her hands over her mouth in shock. Bruce had said there would be a lot of blood, he had told her to be prepared for seeing Tim's blood all across the alley. She _wasn't_ prepared for the amount here, there was no way _anyone _could live after loosing this much blood. _What was going on_? Had Bruce lied to her when he said that he would save Timothy? What was he planning to do? The girl trembled as she thought of their conversation. It hadn't sounded good, like he wasn't planning on coming back. 

"Oh god." She whispered to herself, carefully stepping away from the mess of blood. "Oh god, oh god – _please_ don't let him die – _please_. I can't loose them too."

_To be continued …_

**Candleblaise: **LOL, good chapter besides the fact that Tim died indeed. I'm sad, I was trying to find a better person that had powers to bring someone back to life. I was hoping for a hero or something, and that way I could make Batman more pleading, unlike he is with Ras - I dunno. I pictured it different. I'm glad you're still reading though, this fic is a bit strange, let's see what more we can do to worsen it, eh?

**Trunksblue: **LOL, intuition was right on with that one. I did kill Tim. I have my - try not to laugh - Batman guide book (my friends always laugh at me about that one) - and looked up Ras. It apparently says the Lazuras Pit can only bring people back to life who aren't 'truely' dead. I was like: WHAT? So I don't know what that meant, but I used it for this. Lets hope it works, lol.

**Chocogirl: **Killing Timmy is like ... the cardinal sin or something, and I did it! Gah! Yeah, over dramatic is totally ok, I do it too. I'm glad you liked it, though I obviously brought him back. I'm sure I'll regreat not doing more with the time he was dead, but oh well. Que sera, sera.

**Caerula**: Haha, it's ok that you didn't review. I think you earn review breaks, you're a nice reviewer who always reviews, so I hear people like that are allowed to miss a lot. Plus, I actually updated in less than a month or year, so it's my fault. I get tricky like that, lol. I'm glad you liked it ok, though - I'm nervous about this chappie. Things seem choppy.

**Fruitsbasketgirl911: **Yeah, he hated Lisa like whoa. Though, I think it wasn't really him hating her as much as it was him hating Bruce for loving her. I've known a few people like that, sometimes it was a justified hate, and sometimes not. You know? Lisa seemed nice, but he couldn't help hating her. LOL. Thanks for the review!

**Kayla Tsukino: **LOL, cliffy endings good. I hate and love them, a bitter sweet relationship. I love the suspence, but I hate waiting! And with me it's usually a long wait, so I try not to do it too often. LOL. But thanks so much, I'll remember that cliffy endings aren't too evil and try to use them more. :-) Yeah, I try to make it sad, but don't know much in the drama area, I try though! Thanks so much for the review, I'm glad you enjoyed it!


	10. Changes

"How quickly dreams rearrange when constellations are at war. Hey lone star, it's all right. Did you look up to find you were left behind? Did your heroes and stars fade? Have you been let down by a lover, father, friend? Did the myth of greatness leave your side with no desire to defend? Did the chariots of fire burn you in the end? Breathe in the night; let in know just who you are. There's still a child inside of you connecting star to star."

_Texas Stars _**Carbon Leaf**

_**In My Arms Again**_

**By: **The BatThing

**For: **Ariel (Thanks for Everything!)

**Chapter Ten: **Changes

"_He is drugged, Detective, otherwise the effects of the Lazarus Pit would cause him to be … provisionally unstable." _

Tim groaned, feeling out of sorts. He didn't have the faintest idea of where he might be, but he was strangely calm. Opening his eyes seemed impossible, moving seemed impossible, but as a hand smoothed across his forehead and the boy flinched at its presence. _Am I dead?_

"_He'll be fine?"_

_Bruce_! Tim wished he could move, but the ability to move seemed so far away. Thinking clearly wasn't going so well either, the boy tried to reason what was happening, tried to move, and tried to listen at the same time. The drugs seemed to be blocking him from doing anything productive.

"_You have my word."_

A long pause or maybe he had just fallen asleep? Tim didn't know, but he felt the hand return to his forehead. It stayed there for a few moments, and the teenager let out a small whine.

"_I'm sorry, Tim." _The hand lifted away. _"Be a good solider, be brave."_

_Stay awake, stay awake_. Tim struggled against the effects of the drug, he knew perfectly well that he should be listening, even if he didn't completely understand what was going on – he knew to listen.

" _-- Barbara take care of herself. Don't hate me for what I'm doing, Tim, please, live. And remember -."

* * *

_

Tim Drake awoke to shrieking, he sat up with a start and a small yelp at the sudden pain rushing to his head. "Wha?" It took a while for his surroundings to come into place, and before that could even happen someone was shaking him, crying.

"You scared me, _bastard_! You scared me _so _bad! Where is Bruce, I'll kick his ass, the big dolt!" Barbara Gordon's voice came through loud and clear, not to mention a bit shaky. Her grip on the teenager was rough, and not near ready to let go. "_What happened_ last night?"

The fifteen year old felt his stomach flip and his heart race as he remember. "I'm alive?"

A long pause and Barbara slowly let go of his wrist. She moved closer to him, looking completely confused. "Of course you're alive, what does that mean? Bruce called last night, saying you were awfully hurt – and there was blood all over Janeson Alley, I got scared – and you didn't answer my calls!" She was getting upset again, apparently remembering the events that had taken place.

"Where's Bruce?!"

"Huh? That's what I asked you!" The red-head blinked, moving off the bed and getting to her feet. She placed her hands on her hips in an effort to be all the more serious. When she spoke her voice broke. "I don't like this anymore, no joking about it, ok? I thought you were _dead _last night, both you and Bruce – so _stop it_! I can't take anymore, not after loosing Dick and Alfred."

Tim moved his hand up to his neck and jumped at the feel of a scar there. Looking up at Barbara he saw her eyes grow wide at the sight of the deformed skin.

"When did you get _that_?" She grabbed his hand and moved it away, taking a closer look. "How come I didn't know about that? You must have been hiding it rather well these last few years. Apparently it's been awhile since you've gotten it. Make-up or something?"

"Oh god, Barb, where is Bruce?"

"_I_ said _to stop it_!"

Throwing off his covers, Tim got to his feet and ran to the bathroom, glancing at his neck through the mirror. There was a scar, rather large, but it looked to be a few years old. A slight discoloration of the skin and a bit of raised flesh – nothing more. "I should be dead – I _was _dead … Bruce said … he talked to me and I was drugged."

"_What are you talking about, Timothy Drake_?"

"Ras Al Ghul!" The boy yelped. "His Lazarus Pit is why I'm alive. I heard them talking, Ras said he'd have to drug me in order to make things work, and Bruce was talking … he was _sad_. Said – said … he said…"

Barbara bit her lower lip at the faded words, not liking where this was headed. Whatever Tim had just remembered was _bad_, that much was for sure. "Timmy?"

"He said that he was sorry, said to be brave and … and not to hate him for what he did." The boy spoke in a soft and monotone voice, his eyes fading at the memory. "He was acting like he wasn't going to come back, like he was dying or something – but … but why would Ras kill Bruce? Doesn't Ras _like _Bruce?"

The young woman obviously was confused. "Why were you with Ras? Why were you using his Lazarus Pit?"

"I-I got shot in the neck by the same guys that killed Alfred, I thought I would have _died _though, I should have I died … I can't remember anything but being in so much pain and then waking up to Bruce and Ras talking." Tim put a hand over his mouth. "Where did Bruce go?"

The two didn't waste much time with more talk, they silently agreed to make their way to the Batcave. It was clear that Ras would know _something_, after all – he was the one who had save Tim. He _had _to know where Bruce had gone, or – or _something_. They made their way into the dark cave, hurrying, but stopping at the sign of two white envelopes pinned to Robin's costume. One was titled: _Timothy_ _Drake_ and the other _Barbara Gordon_.

They silently took them, giving odd looks and flipping out the letters.

"Do not come searching for me, Timothy and Barbara, and do not come searching for Ras. He gave Tim use of one of the Lazarus Pits in order that you might _live_. He has nothing to do with my death, it was completely my choice. If you question him then I instructed this same letter to be presented to you. He has my written word that you both will not blame him. Do not blame him. Bruce." Tim lifted his head, looking confused as Barbara held her letter, reading it in silence. "Does yours say the same?"

"Um, yes – it says that." The girl answered, blinking her eyes as tears began. "And a bit more."

"He has to be lying, there has to be some clue in here that he's trying to get through to us. There would be no reason for Bruce to die, and besides – he doesn't say why he died, or how." Tim knew he was talking too fast, and talking like a child in denial, but it couldn't be helped. He didn't want to believe the words written on the paper he held. "Ras respected Bruce, didn't he? So – so …"

"Be strong Barbara, and don't take on more than you can handle." The girl whispered, reading her letter. "I have a favor to ask you, please – see the following page. Bruce."

Tim blinked, eyes getting a bit wide as she pulled another page from the envelope. There was a moment of silence as he watched her read through it. "Barb?"

She didn't say anything.

* * *

"_The suicide of Bruce Wayne – multibillionaire – has been circulating in gossip the last few hours. A body has yet to be found, but when the wealthy bachelor's ward called in the disappearance it did not take long for a suicide letter to be uncovered, along with a makeshift will. Rumors have yet to be confirmed but it is believed that Bruce Wayne left his family company in the hands of a family friend, Barbara Gordon_." 

Barbara shook her head as she sat in her apartment, watching the news – seeing how much everybody knew. It hadn't taken but a few hours for this chaos to start, the paparazzi had always been vicious when it came to such things. Clutching a pillow she buried her face into the fabric, not able to cry – but unable to hold back the overwhelming feeling of being lost.

"_She will run things alongside Luscious Fox until the Wayne heir – Timothy Drake – comes of age. It is reported that at this time Miss Gordon will not step down if she does not wish to – she and Timothy will become partners_."

The young woman grabbed for the remote, feeling that her stomach couldn't handle anything more. How was it that the press got news so quickly? How the hell did they come across this information? And how was it all right?

"Barbara? Are you alright?" Jim Gordon came over to his daughter and looked concerned. "Do you want to be watching this?"

"_Until that time, Bruce Wayne left instructions for his teenage ward to go into the care of another family friend, Clark Kent."_

"_At least Mr. Kent won't have to worry about supporting the boy, hmm, Sandra?"_

"_Apparently not." _The two shared a small laugh and before anything else was said – the television flashed and faded away.

"Tim should be living with me." Barbara told her father in a soft voice. "I should be the one to take care of him, I'm like his _sister_. He doesn't even know Clark that well, I don't understand – how could Bruce force Tim to live with a strange like that?"

"I think Mr. Wayne knew what he was doing, Barb." Jim paused, rubbing his hands together. "You're only a child yourself, twenty-five hardly seems a reasonable age to take on the responsibility of a teenager."

"He left me with the company." The girl said, becoming angry. "If twenty-five is too young to take care of a teenager, then it's too young to take care of a _multi-billion company_! Tim can't go live with Clark _Kent_, he _needs _**me**."

Gordon said nothing for a moment, and then slowly shook his head. "You'll just have to trust that Mr. Wayne knew what he was doing. Honestly, I'm curious why he entrusted his wealth to you, even if you and Richard were serious. It just seems -- strange."

The girl rubbed at her tearless eyes and made a strange noise in the back of her throat. "You know Bruce and I were close. After Dick left … you know how it was – and when Dick came back things just got closer between all of us."

"_Still_."

The girl said nothing in reply, simply hid her face back into the pillow and heaved a heavy sigh. Never before had she felt so useless, Tim had been so silent when she had last seen him, she almost felt worried leaving him alone at the Manor. It was what he wanted though, to be home as long as he could, before he was forced away. To be home and to have some time alone were his two simple requests. "He's just _so _young, and now he has to go to a new place. He's _never been _outside of Gotham for more than a week his whole life, how will he survive away for so long? _This _is his home."

Jim said nothing.

* * *

**One Day Later:**

"Sorry about the mess, I, um, I sort of left things in a rush – you know?" Clark Kent shrugged as he smiled pleasantly in Timothy Drake's direction. The apartment wasn't as messy as some, but in aspect with the spotless Wayne Manor, it was crude. How could anyone compare with Alfred's cleaning skills? Not even Superman stood a chance. "I'm looking into new apartments, figured you'd probably enjoy having your own room – right?"

Tim didn't answer, just clutched onto his suitcase's strap resting on his shoulder. He hadn't packed very much – a few clothes, a couple pieces of memorabilia: pictures, Alfred's unfinished journal, a necklace from when Dick was a teenager – it was a rather strange thing – a simple black string with some blue rock at the end. Tim had found it in his older brother's room right before Clark had come, and just taken it on impulse. He felt the need to have something, and with the necklace, it would always be with him. Then, finally, he had dug through Bruce's drawers and dressers, knowing perfectly well what he was going to take of his mentors.

A sweatshirt, plain and simple, ten times too big for Tim, but that didn't matter. The boy _wanted _something, and he felt silly taking it. What would people think? Well, probably nothing good, they'd just think he was coping – and Tim didn't want people to assume _anything_ he was feeling.

"For tonight, if you don't mind – you could just sleep on the couch? It's rather comfortable, you know." The man cleared his throat and checked the time. "I'll get you some blankets and stuff, you're probably rather tired after that long of a trip – and it's late."

The boy watched as Clark went into a room, only to return shortly with a few blankets and a pillow. He dropped them on the couch and gave another smile. Tim didn't return it, but did decide to speak. "I brought my pillow from home."

"Oh, well, never know if you might want two."

"I won't."

"Ok." Clark pulled the pillow back and nodded. "We should probably talk about a few things, but I'll leave that for another time. I'm sure right now you probably just want to get some rest. If you get hungry or thirsty, the kitchen's right over there – pretty obvious. The bathroom's right down the hall, first door on the left. Make yourself at home."

Tim lifted the suitcase strap over his head and dropped the object to the ground. He then shrugged off his old backpack and dropped the pillow onto the couch, glancing up at Clark for a moment. They made eye contact, and then the teenager looked back at his things. He was tired, but more than anything, he didn't want to have to deal with Clark's constant smiles and prattle. It was annoying and unhelpful at the moment.

"Well, I'll be in my room if you need anything – just knock."

"Don't you have stuff to do? This _is _your city, right? And if I recall, don't you basically run the JLA?" Tim sounded like a brat, and he didn't care. "I don't need you here, Clark. Thanks, but I'm fine – you can go and work, there are some people who _really_ need help. I'm fine."

A long drawn out pause, and the Man of Steel nodded. "If you're sure."

Tim just nodded and kneeled by his suitcase, pulling out some clothes to sleep in. He rested a hand on Dick's necklace and then looked up at Clark once more. "I don't mind." Actually, he'd _rather_ Clark get lost. The last thing he wanted was someone listening for any sign of suffering – like Tim was going to be a baby about this. _Please_. People seemed to forget that he had lived with the _Batman_, trained under _the Dark Knight_. Tim knew perfectly well how to keep things to himself, and to stay at a distance.

There was a pride in his city, the pride that Gotham was so much worse than any other place. There was a pride in Batman – that Tim's mentor could scare superheroes, scare Superman if he wanted. And Dick – yeah, Dick _was_ his older brother – and _yeah_, Dick had led the Titans, anything Dick did – he became number one. _Don't anyone forget_. The boy gave a glare in Clark's direction, the pride overwhelming in his chest. He said nothing.

"Alright, if you insist – I guess I'll see you in the morning then, kid." Clark lifted a hand in a sort of goodbye, and then there was a pull of wind, and then nothing. Tim got back to his feet, holding pajama pants, Bruce's old sweatshirt, and Dick's necklace – clutched in his right hand. He made his way to the bathroom for a shower. It took about ten minutes before the teenager was done and dressed, rolling up the long sleeves best he could, but not minding their length. He dropped onto the couch, and pulled a blanket over himself, and he slept.

* * *

There was an annoying musical tone playing into the boy's dreams, and he slowly came into reality, blinking away the sleep and sitting up. _His cell phone_! Lurching forward, he jerked his backpack up and dug through the back pocket and pulled out the small object. "Hello?!" 

"Tim? Hey, it's me – Barb. Were you asleep? Oh gosh, you were, weren't you?! I'm sorry." The girl sounded nervous as she spoke, like she had been debating to call the boy at all. "I just was getting ready for bed and wanted to give you a call. I miss you, I guess."

"It's been a day." Tim answered a bit on the blunt side. He appreciated her concern, but it had only been a few hours since they last saw each other. He gave a small despite himself, and closed his eyes, listening as she spoke.

"Not a lot happened tonight, no real leads into anything. I've been tracking the area where you were hurt, try and find the guys – they'll have to know something. You did say that they mentioned knowing about Dick's murder." The girl gave a sigh. "I didn't get very far, but it's only one night."

"What are we going to do about Bruce, Barb?"

"Oh, well … I thought we were going to do what his letter told us to do." She took in a deep breath. "He said not to come find him, and as far as I can tell, if he's staying with Ras Al Ghul we're going to need a lot more help. A lot more clues too. The man could be staying anywhere … tomorrow I'll go to the cave and see What Bruce's last activity was there – check things out, see if we can get a destination. Then, find the usual suspects we can get information from concerning Ras. Right now though … well, I'm sleepy. It's been a long day, and it's going to be an even longer week."

"I don't think Superman is going to be letting me out much here. He said we'd have a talk tomorrow – that should be interesting."

"Do you think he knows more than he says he does? I mean, of course he does, and he said Bruce sent him a letter too, right?"

Tim rolled onto his side, looking towards the double glass doors that lead out onto the balcony. Metropolis was pretty – no denying it. A few stars were actually visible, and the towering buildings seemed in slumber, not the bright lights Tim was accustom to in Gotham: the City that never slept. "Yeah – I guess I'll find out tomorrow morning."

"How's his place?"

"Small – he said he's looking for a new apartment. I'm currently on the couch." Tim paused. "I didn't plan on staying too long. I hope he doesn't go too much into this whole thing."

Barbara chuckled. "You'll be there till you turn – what – 16? Then you can come back and live with us. Just a year, you can do it."

"I'm pretty tired, I think I'm going to go back to sleep, Barb. I'll call you tomorrow, ok? Keep me updated." Tim said.

"Of course, I need to keep you updated – I don't have a choice. You're my only help here." She gave a sad chuckle, trying to keep in good spirits, even though it was border lining exhausting trying to do just that. "I love you … figure I should start saying that a lot more considering, you know?"

"Love you too, Babs – night."

"Sleep tight."

Tim clicked off the phone and fell back to sleep with ease.

* * *

When Clark Kent got home he dressed into some flannel pajama pants and an undershirt. Having someone else in the house meant wearing decent pajama's – boxers didn't cut it anymore. The man pushed open the door and made sure to be silent as he entered the kitchen, getting a drink of water. The clock on the microwave was flashing 4:32 AM. 

The Man of Steel slowly crept into the sitting room and found Bruce Wayne's ward fast asleep on the couch, all the blankets having fallen to the floor, but the boy didn't look too cold – even if it was December. The man gave a small smile at the sight of the overly large sweatshirt. No doubt the boy took one from Dick or Bruce before leaving – good. Tim should have something of theirs.

The boy moved a bit, his arms tightened around his pillows as he held it close. Eyes were at ease, his body seemed to be relaxed, and that was good. Perhaps pleasant dreams were taking place in the young Boy Wonder's head at the moment – they would be most welcome, if that were the case.

Clark had never even considered getting a sidekick. He had Kara, but having her live with him – out of the question. How was it that Bruce – _Bruce Wayne­_ – why was it that he took in Dick? Bruce had to have been just getting out of his teenager years when he agreed to look after eight-year-old Dick Grayson. How did he manage? How was it that the most unsociable person Clark Kent _ever _knew was capable to have kids?

And to actually have those kids adore him? Look up, admire, and do anything to please him? It wasn't a one sided thing though. It was more than obvious, all those years ago, when Dick was just a child – how Bruce would get upset when the nine-year-old would look in awe at Superman. But even if Clark had gotten Dick to admire him for a moment or two, he knew something Bruce didn't.

To Dick – to Tim … Bruce was a _god_. Bruce could _kill_ Superman, and just about any other living thing.

_I don't think Bruce ever realized that_.

Or maybe he did.

_How am I supposed to do this Bruce? You knew what you were doing. You were good at it – and me? I'm not cut out to be a father, especially not to **your** kid. How could you … _Clark exhaled and closed his eyes. He took a moment and forced a smile once more. A sound interrupted his short meditation, a simple sleep noise from the boy on the couch.

"Mmmm." Tim moved again, letting his head move a little. "Mmhhsblue."

_It only he'd stay cute._ Clark smiled at the boy, and then turned back to his room. _The moment he wakes up he'll turn into a little monster that refuses anything I do_. _I can already tell_. _Bruce was enough work, now I get his offspring … or well, something like that.

* * *

_

Tim slept reasonably well, considering it was his first time to be in a strange place. Ever since life at Wayne Manor started for him, he hadn't much gone outside of the house. Sure, he'd go to Dick's loft occasionally, and then a few times to different cities, but never without Alfred, Dick, or Bruce. For the first time in almost three years, Tim was sleeping without any inkling of his home.

He slept soundly enough, yes – but not perfectly well. At least once ever three hours he'd awaken with an embarrassing gasp, forgetting what was going on. A few times it would hit so strong he'd flip himself right off the couch. It was now five in the morning, and the teenager found himself in such a position, pushing off the floor and blushing at his behavior. _At least Clark isn't around. _"Uhh, fuck." Tim looked at his elbow and frowned at the gash in his arm where he hit the side of the coffee table.

"Are you ok?"

Tim about jumped at the voice. "Huh? You're home?" He saw Clark walking down the hall, apparently awake himself. "M'fine – just was … looking for something I dropped on the ground."

Clark yawned and nodded. "Thought I heard you fall or something, sorry – I just got in, not quiet asleep yet."

"Well … night." Tim climbed back on the couch, hand to his sore elbow as he looked again out the large windows. It was snowing outside, and snowing in a way that was almost impossibly beautiful. The boy sat back up and squinted at the view. "S'snowing?"

"Huh? Oh - yawn - I guess so, it is December." And Clark went back into his room, closing the door and leaving Tim alone with the amazing view.

The snow was _so_ white! It was falling onto the buildings, sparkling, shimmering – breathtaking. "That's some shit right there." Tim whispered as he pressed his hands against the doors. He heard a small _clink_ and looked down to find Dick's necklace having hit the glass doors. The boy took it up, looking at the small blue rock carefully, and wanting to know why Dick had it.

_Does it really matter?_

_Yes._

Tim nodded and wrapped his arms around his waist, hugging himself tight, smelling the scent of the sweatshirt – dreading the day it might start smelling like him.

_To Be Continued …_

_**Candelblaise: **I'm glad you think he showed concern - I was trying to make him show a little, but it was hard. Batman and concern don't mix so hot, it's sort of an oximoron or something, lol. Yeah, wish I could say I kept that updating habit, but it sort of died come Christmas Break, bleh! I apologize for the wait! I do! Hopefully I'll get that inspiration back asap! _

_**Caruela**: I felt the choppy-ness in there, but at least it wasn't so bad people died while reading it! LOL. Yes, what will Tim do about Lisa - stay tuned, lol. What will Lisa do about Tim? And about Bruce? Hmm. She's a dumb character, but oh well - part of the story. Thanks so much for reading and reviewing, and sorry I took ten years to get back to this fanfiction. Christmas Break creates laziness!_

**Kayla Tsukino:** _Haha! I don't know much about dead bodies, I'll be honest. I've only seen a dead spossum once, and that was about the closest thing I've dealt with, lol. Thanks for the info, actually - it's really helpful, 'cause you know, you have to be 'part alive' to use the pit, so yeah. If he had some brain activity, well, I'd call that alive! Thanks for reading, sorry about the lazy upload break! Gah!_

_**Fruitsbasketgirl911: **It's the magic of the Lazuras Pit (sp). It's just this old thing in the comics, basically there are these pits that can bring a person who isn't completely dead back to life - it's sort of the spring of life or whatever it's called. Where if you go in it, you get young, and if you're dying, you're healed. Thank goodness for comic creations! Thanks for reading, lol! _

_**Trunksblue: **No, no, I was nervous writing in that weird chapter. It was honestly very choppy, and confusing. I was writing and writing and not connection much - so yeah, the part with Barb is a little like: what? LOL. Anyhow, yeah, it will suck when Tim finds that out - I'd kill someone if they died so I could live. I'd be like: I hate you forever, I now have this everlasting guilt, thank you! But yeah, it'd make it a lot worse if it was someone in my family. ;-( How mean we are to Tim!_


	11. School

"There's a difference that only you'll make, finding hope with every step that you take."

**Cassidy Ladden **Shine

_**In My Arms Again**_

**By: **The BatThing

**Chapter Eleven: **School

Tim Drake didn't say a word as he stood beside Clark at the front desk. He didn't have to say a word to voice his opinion. No, he glared enough to prove his point. The teenager _didn't_ want to be here. Where did Clark get off anyhow, signing him up for school?

"So that's it? That's all?" Clark questioned, pushing up his glasses a bit as he smiled at the woman assisting him. "Second semester starts …"

"It started this week, Tuesday, the second of January." She answered, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She gave a quizzical look. "…You're from Gotham Heights?"

Tim didn't say anything, just glared at her. Even when Clark elbowed him in the side, he didn't give a peep.

"Yes, you have the papers and his past grades – so he'll just come tomorrow?"

She nodded, handing the man a few random pieces of paper. Her lips turned up into a smile as she looked in Tim's direction, wondering if the boy were as ill-tempered as he looked. "MetroScott High School welcomes you, Timothy Drake."

She didn't know, just like everyone else. After all, what sort of name was Tim Drake? The boy swallowed the lump in his throat at the realization that his life as Bruce Wayne's ward was leaving him completely. Soon he'd be known as just Tim Drake … or worse, Clark Kent's kid. _I'll never let that happen_.

"Well, thank you again – thank you." Clark gave a smile and actually lifted his hand in a wave as he walked backwards. He didn't see the young girl walking behind him and about ran into the girl. "Oops, sorry. Excuse me! I suppose I should look where I'm walking, haha!"

The girl made a face, but forced a polite smile at the man babbling at her.

Tim on the other hand shoved his hands into his pockets and started back for the door. The school was smaller than Gotham Heights, it was slower-paced, the kids seemed stupid, and the adults seemed full of themselves. No, Tim knew he'd hate it here, just like he hated Metropolis.

"Well, I guess we got that out of the way. They said that you'd get your books in your classes tomorrow, so not to worry about it till then." Clark got into the car, giving Tim an overly happy look. It died away quickly though, seeing that Tim was far from feeling the same. He started the car without another word, figuring that he wouldn't let it get to him. After all, Tim was dealing with a lot as it was – of course he'd act distant, of course he'd be thoughtlessly mean at times.

The trick was not letting it get to you.

Right.

* * *

"There's no way." Tim said into the phone later that night. He had called Barbara to find out what exactly she was up to, to see if she had gotten any new information on Bruce's mysterious 'death'. Tim didn't want to label it as that. "People just don't disappear."

"Yes they do, and you know it. How many times have we had mysterious deaths and not been able to find out any clue to who did it? It just will take Tim, time – it always does. Eventually we'll find a clue, but it will take _time_." Barbara replied in a slightly irked tone. She had been out all day researching and now she was hunting down leads all night long. It didn't help that Tim expected a full status report each day, wherein he got upset to discover she hadn't found anything new.

"Well, even if time _does_ help, it also hurts. You know that. The trail'll go cold and -."

"Tim, I love you to death, but I really can't talk right now. I'm going to go out later tonight, alright? I'll call you tomorrow _if_ I find anything new, ok?"

"…Ok."

"Love you, kid, have fun at your first day of school."

"That won't happen. Bye." He hung up the phone with a sigh, lying down on the couch and feeling totally worthless. Clark had gone out to help people, Barbara was fighting crime, and he was … doing nothing. "Stupid."

* * *

"Are you new or something?"

Tim lifted his head off the desk, forcing himself to look at the boy talking to him. He couldn't not glare at the other teenager, the boy looked too stupid. "What do you want?"

"You're, uh, in _my_ seat. There's a free seat over there." The boy pointed to the back of the room, where there was truly an empty seat. The only trouble was that it was by some strange looking girl with buck teeth, bad hair, and thick glasses.

"You have assigned seating in this class?" Tim demanded, not willing to budge.

The other boy gave a sarcastic smile, leaning down and getting closer to Tim. "_Sure_ we do. So if you don't mind, I'd like my seat back." He dropped his backpack on the desk, giving Tim an expectant look.

Tim decided he wasn't going to fight it. He knew that there probably wasn't any assigned seating. Oh well, he could sleep by the weird girl as easily as he could sleep by the normal ones. Dropping his backpack by the chair, he slid in front of the desk, ignoring the girl staring at him through the coke glasses.

"You're new?"

Oh good, she was talking to him. He ignored the question, planting his head in his arms and hiding away from those looking at him in curiosity.

The girl kept talking. "You didn't want to sit by me, did you? That's ok, nobody ever does. I don't mind, I like being alone." Apparently her looks weren't the only reason she sat alone. "People are jealous of me, I don't know why. It's a silly thing to be jealous, don't you think?"

"Take some of your own advice." Tim growled, deciding to end this before it got out of hand. He lifted his head. "Sounds like _you're _the one jealous of _them_. I don't want to talk to you, got it? If you like being alone so much, then _stop_ talking to _me_."

"…" The girl pulled away from him, glaring through her glasses, but not blushing.

"Ohh." A few kids echoed.

"Burned."

"JoAnne's in the doghouse, and this time not 'cause of her looks."

A few kids giggled at the comments they were making. And even though Tim knew he was the reason for her humiliation, he didn't care. If he had to come to school, fine – but don't expect him to have any social connections, or make fun of the losers, or hang with the jocks.

"What's your name, kid?"

Tim ignored the person talking to him. He put his head back into his arms, wondering what the kids at his old school were doing. It was the first time he realized that they had meant more to him then he had thought. It wasn't that he _cared_, but he did miss them.

"Too good for us, apparently." Someone said.

"He's crying." A boy said.

A few kids laughed at the comment.

"He's embarrassed by all the attention, maybe?"

"Hey new kid – you embarrassed?"

"Lead him alone, Roy."

"Hello class." A cheerful voice said as a door slammed shut. Tim tilted his head a little, opening his eyes to see what the teacher looked like. "You must be the new kid."

Tim didn't answer, nor did he lift his head. He kept it down on his arms, looking at the man with a half glare.

The teacher looked younger then expected – tall, lanky, and dressed as un-casual as he could manage. "I'm Mr. Reid, it's nice to meet you … what's your name?" He walked to the front of the class and took a seat on the edge of his desk as he carried on the conversation.

"Tim."

"You have a last name, Tim?"

"Drake."

The teacher gave a half grin, not really comfortable with the anti-social and rude teenager, but he was use to such a thing. Besides, it was the kid's first day, why not cut him some slack and grant a few more chances. "What brings you to MetroScott, Tim Drake? Where you from originally?"

The boy lifted his head slowly, feeling all eyes on him – watching him. "Gotham."

"Yeah? Really? I've been to Gotham a few times – the Gotham Knights are awesome, always loved them, _always_. Though, they aren't doing so well this year."

Tim shrugged.

"You like Metropolis so far?"

What was with the questions? It wasn't third grade – it was high school. "No. It sucks."

There was a collective silence, and the teacher forced himself to laugh and smile, deciding that this kid should be pitied. "I take it you didn't want to move, huh? Well, I bet with time you might not hate it _so_ much, give it time. Now guys, let's turn to page 30 in our text books and go over your readings."

The class dragged on and on, the two hours seemed impossibly boring. Tim had a hard time keep awake, even though the class itself was lively. It was clear that Mr. Reid was a teacher that everyone liked. He was nice, funny, up to date, and understanding. When class finally did end, and the bell rang, Tim watched as everyone rushed out of the room – pleased that they could move on with their day and get school over with.

"Tim, right?" Mr. Reid walked over to the boy with a smile. "I hope you didn't mind me talking to you earlier in class. I usually bother the new kids with boring questions, you know? I hope it didn't bother you too much."

"Not too much."

"You miss Gotham, I take it? I don't blame you, I'd miss my home too if I had to move." He shook his head. "Fortunately I've been stuck in this city since I was a kid. But I know it'd be hard to leave, even if at times I hate it here."

Tim put his book into his satchel, looking at the man carefully. He didn't respond, but he did listen to what he was being told.

"What class you have next?"

"Algebra."

"Ah, sounds like fun – I won't hold you up for _that_."

Tim nodded, putting his satchel's strap around his shoulder. He didn't say goodbye, he didn't offer a wave, or nod – he just left the room, thinking about the day he could go home and wondering if his friends back at Gotham Heights even noticed he was gone, and if they cared.

Barbara cared.

But who else would?

Tim released a sigh as he walked through the crowded halls towards his next class.

* * *

Not a single friend was made in Algebra class, or Current Events. Not that Tim had been doing anything to make connections, and not that he wanted a friend. He wasn't going to be in Metropolis very long – so why bother? _Besides, the kids here are stupid_. The boy sighed as he sat against the wall. It was lunch time, and the cafeteria was packed full of people. Though, luckily for Tim, part of the hall was open for the students to mingle in. He had found a spot against a wall and held his ground.

He felt pathetic.

"Not hungry?"

Tim lifted his head, finding Mr. Reid looking down at him. "No."

"Yeah, me neither. Lunch duty today, its fun stuff – I get to watch teenagers eat." The man leaned against the wall beside Tim and looked into the lunchroom through the double doors. "How were your classes?"

"Fine."

"Mine were boring – imagine teaching the same thing three times in a row. It can get really old really fast."

Tim bowed his head, looking at the floor with little interest. Why was this guy bothering him? It might _look_ like Tim was lonely, but he wasn't! He didn't need company or a friend.

"How long have you been in Metropolis now?"

The boy shook his head. "A few days."

"Oh. You unpacked yet?"

"Yes."

"Really?! Wow, I gotta tell Ben and Jenna. They moved here two years ago and they're still unpacking stuff. You get movers to do it for you?"

Tim shook his head.

"Your parents must be pretty dedicated to it then, huh?"

Tim felt himself freeze at those words. He knew it was coming, but that didn't make it any easier. The last thing he wanted was to sound like a poor troubled youth, but at the same time – a harsh answer might be enough to drop the hint that Tim _wanted_ to be alone. "I moved in with a friend of the family. I didn't have to unpack anything but clothes."

The teacher was quiet for a few moments. "Oh, well, that makes sense then." There was a drawn out silence after that, probably ten minutes in length. Though, even though Tim thought he had managed to silence Mr. Reid, he had been wrong. "I take it you don't want to be here."

_What the?_ Tim glared up at the man. What business what that of his? The last thing the teacher needed to know was how Tim felt. "What does it matter to _you_?" He felt his chest rising and falling more and more quickly. He was getting angry, and there was no stopping it. STUPID Metropolis, with its clean air, its Superman Boy Scout, and it's happy and caring citizens.

The sky was too blue here.

The city was too clean here.

"What do you want?" Tim finally demanded, deciding he had his fill of talking. "If you want to know why I'm here why not go talk to the office. I'm sure _they_ could tell you. Stop bothering me, my life is _none_ of your business."

"I'm sorry, I apologize … I was out of line. I guess, I guess I just was a bit too curious." He smiled despite the awkwardness. "I always wanted to be a counselor when I was in college, guess it never left me."

Tim looked away.

"You mind if I still stand here?"

"…No."

"Cool."

* * *

"Hey Tim!" Clark got home a few hours after Tim did, and he looked excited to see the boy. "How'd the first day go? Make any friends? You like the system? Is it like your other school?"

The boy was playing his gameboy, and he didn't pause it to talk with the likes of _Clark_. "I hate it here, why would I make friends or like the system?"

Ah-ha, well, this was something Clark would laugh about in a few years … decades. "You know, _I_ know you don't want to be here, Tim. But you are, and there isn't anything either of us can do about it. I know you might not like the idea, but this is your home for now. Things might seem bad, but you only make them worse with your attitude. Would you consider trying to be a little bit more … understanding?"

"No."

"Could you turn off the game?"

"I'll tell you what, Clark. If you want me to be a bit more 'understanding' then why not let me go to Gotham on weekends to help Barb?" Tim did pause the game, figuring the conversation might be of use to him now.

The Man of Steele shook his head. "Bruce didn't want you to -."

Tim scoffed, returning to his game. "How do you know he _wasn't_ forced to write what he did, Clark? How do you know _anything_?"

"Because I do."

"_Because I do_."

"Don't mock me, Tim, please."

"Then stop saying stupid things."

Clark sighed, feeling oddly weak. "Your life was in danger when you left, Tim – Bruce didn't want you hurt, so he took away Robin from you to prevent that. He was my friend, and keeping you safe is the only thing I can do for him. So, stop acting like it's unfair. He died to make sure you stayed alive. I won't let you harm yourself."

Tim heard what was said, but acted like he didn't care. _He died to make sure you stayed alive._

"Fine, ignore me." Clark walked to his room, having had his fill of Tim's child like behavior. He needed to cool off before attempting to talk any more with the teenager.

_He died to make sure you stayed alive_. Tim clutched the game as tight as he could, and bowing his head at the pain those words brought him. _He died because of you_. Why didn't Clark just say it like it was? Why didn't … _forget it, Tim_. The boy shook his head, as if to rid himself of all thoughts on the matter.

He returned to the game.

_To be continued …_

**Trunksblue: **Haha, Tim could kill Clark with kryptonite on his necklace … lolirl, that'd be funny. Actually, it'd be morbid and evil, but I'd probably laugh anyhow. I don't know why. I haven't been to deviantart in forever and a day … aka – a month. I need to check it out! See if you updated anything, lolirl – I still love that Naruto Batman picture, SON. It makes me laugh each time. Batman: WTF!

**Caerula: **Perfect! Batman the Musical, all the characters can learn to sing, dance, and play musical instruments. Tim could totally carry around a flute, Dick can get the spoons, Barb gets the dulcimer, Alfred on the drums, and Bruce can cover the clarinet. Man, they can fight crime with their music. How awesome would that be? People would hate me, lolirl. Thanks for the laugh! Haha. Doe, a deer, a female deer … I totally know that song from my childhood. Sound of Music rocks hard.

**Trecebo: **Barb is girl power – haha. She can take care of Gotham … I think? I can hope at least. I gotta' ask (I don't remember asking before) – where did you get your penname? Trecebo … I can't even start to guess where it came from. I must pry! Thanks for the review!


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